their cohesion, and the blockade of the Pig-house was raised. Farewell, now to all faith in man or dog; for all might be among the bitten, and consequently might in turn be among the biters.
The night was now come; dinner was past, at which all the grandees of the place had been present: all had now departed, delighted with the condescensions of the Count, and puzzled only on one point, viz., the extraordinary warmth of his attentions to the Commissioner’s daughter. The young lady’s large fortune might have explained this excessive homage in any other case, but not in that of a Prince, and beauty or accomplishments they said she had none. Here then was subject for meditation without end to all the curious in natural philosophy. Amongst these, spite of parental vanity, were the Commissioner and his wife; but an explanation was soon given, which however did but explain one riddle by another. The Count desired a private interview, in which, to the infinite astonishment of the parents, he demanded the hand of their daughter in marriage. State policy, he was aware, opposed such connexions; but the pleadings of the heart outweighed all considerations of that sort; and he requested that with the consent of the young lady, the marriage might be solemnized immediately. The honour was too much for the Commissioner; he felt himself in some measure guilty of treason, by harbouring for one moment hopes of so presumptuous a nature, and in a great panic he ran away and hid himself in the wine-cellar. Here he imbibed fresh courage; and, upon his re-ascent to the upper world, and finding that his daughter joined her entreaties to those of the Count, he began to fear that the treason might lie on the other side, viz., in opposing the wishes of his sovereign; and he joyfully gave his consent: upon which, all things being in readiness, the marriage was immediately celebrated, and a select company, who witnessed it, had the honour of kissing the hand of the new Countess Fitz-Hum.
Scarcely was the ceremony concluded, before a horseman’s horn was heard at the Commissioner’s gate. A special messenger with despatches, no doubt, said the Count; and immediately a servant entered with a box bearing the state arms. Von Hoax unlocked the box; and from a great body of papers which he said were “merely petitions, addresses, or despatches from foreign powers,” he drew out and presented to the Count a “despatch from the Privy Council.” The Count read it, repeatedly shrugging his shoulders.
“No bad news, I hope?” said the Commissioner, deriving courage
