Eugene Alexander Cibulka was the only man among the _haute volee_ of the market-town who had enjoyed the honour of an invitation from Capriani. The invitation,--there was but one,--was to a _dejeuner_, and inspired him with not a little pride. He described it as a most memorable, 'brilliant episode,' in his monotonous existence, and he celebrated it in lyric phrases. What had so charmed him it would be hard to tell; Madame Capriani had found it impossible to understand him, although she had good-humouredly tried to do so,--his sentences were so interlarded with compliments,--and consequently she was obliged to confine herself to phrases of conventional courtesy; Adeline had spoken only in French, which of course excluded him from conversation with her, and when he picked up her handkerchief she thanked him as haughtily as if she resented his not presenting it on a salver; the Conte had urged him to partake of the various dishes, ringing the changes upon one invariable theme. "You had better take some--you don't get such a chance every day." Modern culture had certainly treated him ill, but all the more was he convinced of its immense superiority. There was but one adjective that in his opinion, could in any wise fitly characterize the new household at Schneeburg, and that was, 'Sublime!' Two years previously, in old Malzin times, he had also on some occasion or other dined at Schneeburg. The old Count had received him with distinguished, though formal, courtesy, had insisted upon his preceding him into the dining-hall, and had taken great pains to find subjects for conversation that should not exclude his guest. He had been very much better treated at Schneeburg then,--but no raptures came of it. On the contrary he had declared, with a shrug, that Count Malzin's style of living was very 'middle-class,'--that it was a pity too, that the Count spoke so low that it was difficult to understand him, and that really there had not been enough to eat. In spite of the old Count's courtesy and of the simplicity of the dinner, Cibulka had somehow on that occasion been keenly sensible of the gulf between himself and the master of Schneeburg, and it seemed to him now that Capriani's millions had avenged him of the affront caused by the personal superiority of the former possessor of the Castle; this delighted him. It flattered his self-importance to hear Capriani--no one knew why,--call Castle Schneeburg a little hunting box, nothing but a hunting box, and then to hear him say: "Oh, Malzin, _apropos_, did you write to the saddler? You must make haste--indeed you are very dilatory!" And then, when Fritz had departed, to have the Cr[oe]sus suddenly turn to him, to Cibulka, and remark confidentially, "that fellow, Malzin, is really an incumbrance, but what can one do?--he must be provided for."