This Tyrolese Count knows
the value of a pound as distinctly as if he hung out in Capel Court
or Kimberley."
Things dragged on in this way, inconclusively, for a week or two.
_We_ bid down; the lawyers stuck to it. Sir Charles grew half sick
of the whole silly business. For my own part, I felt sure if the
high well-born Count didn't quicken his pace, my respected relative
would shortly have had enough of the Tyrol altogether, and be proof
against the most lovely of crag-crowning castles. But the Count
didn't see it. He came to call on us at our hotel--a rare honour for
a stranger with these haughty and exclusive Tyrolese nobles--and
even entered unannounced in the most friendly manner. But when it
came to L. s. d., he was absolute adamant. Not one kreutzer would
he abate from his original proposal.
"You misunderstand," he said, with pride. "We Tyrolese gentlemen are
not shopkeepers or merchants. We do not higgle. If we say a thing we
stick to it. Were you an Austrian, I should feel insulted by your
ill-advised attempt to beat down my price. But as you belong to a
great commercial nation--" he broke off with a snort and shrugged
his shoulders compassionately.
We saw him several times driving in and out of the schloss, and
every time he waved his hand at us gracefully.
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