He saw a face whose mild blue eyes and undetermined mouth he still swore by as the standard by which to try all her inferior sisters, and a figure whose growing embonpoint yearly approached the outline of his ideal hausfrau.
But it was either St.Anthony or one of his fellow-martyrs who observed that an occasional holiday from the ideal is the condiment in the sauce of sanctity; and some such reflection perturbed the Baron at this moment.
"It is nozing moch," he answered.
"Oh, I know what it is.

You have grown so accustomed to seeing the same people, year after year--the Von Greifners, and Rosenbaums, and all those.

You miss them, don't you?
Personally, I think it a very good thing that you should go abroad and be a diplomatist, and not stay in Fogelschloss so much; and you'll soon make loads of friends here.

Mother comes to us next week, you know." "Your mozzer is a nice old lady," said the Baron slowly.

"I respect her, Alicia; bot it vas not mozzers zat I missed just now." "What was it ?" "Life!" roared the Baron, with a sudden outburst of thundering enthusiasm that startled the Baroness completely out of her composure.
"I did have fun for my money vunce in London.