"
"Ah !" replied the Marshal, grimly. "Do not expect me to thank
you, Monsieur; only day before yesterday the dog snapped at my
legs. I am living out of pure spite, to see that dog die before
I do. Peace to his ashes--the sooner the better."
The minister turned to Maurice and laughed.
"Eh!" said the Marshal.
"I prophesied that you would speak disparagingly of the dog."
"What a reputation!" cried the old soldier. "I dare say that you
have been telling Monsieur Carewe that I am a wit. Monsieur,
never attempt to be witty; they will put you down for a wit, and
laugh at anything you say, even when you put yourself out to
speak the truth. If I possess any wit it is like young grapes--
sour. You are connected in Vienna?"
"With the American Legation."
"Happy is the country," said the Marshal, "which is so far away
that Europe can find no excuse to meddle with it."
"And even then Europe would not dare," Maurice replied, with
impertinence aforethought.
"That is not a diplomatic speech."
"It is true."
"I like your frankness."
"Let that go toward making amends for saving the dog."
"Are all American diplomats so frank?" inquired the Marshal,
with an air of feigned wonder.
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