_Re-enter WAITER._ WAITER (_puzzled_). 'Ave you zeen a Herr mit ein long code, ... long tail? BOX. A what? A hare with a long tail? WAITER. Ah! ah! (_laughing_). You are him I zee (_pointing to coat_). Dat vas you dere. Zo ist goot. BOX. Oh, I see. Yes, that's me, I mean that was me, only now I've come out like the butterfly out of a grub. (_Aside._) I forgot that this is Germany. (_Aloud._) Ja. WAITER. Ach! der Herr sprech Deutsch? (_Great applause._) BOX. Yah. (_Aside._) That's more like a nigger. (_Aloud._) On second thoughts, nein. WAITER. Vill you your name in dese book write? (_Presenting visitors' book._) BOX. I will. (_Writes._) Don José John de Boxos Cazadores Regalias, Spain. WAITER. Dank you, milor! [_Exit WAITER C._ BOX. We know what we are, but we never know what we shall be. I am not quite clear at present, by the way, what I am, let alone what I _shall_ be. If anybody three months ago had said to me, "Box, my boy, you are a grandee of Spain" ... I should have said that he was a ... in point of fact I shouldn't have believed him. But still I am--that is, partially so--I'm gradually becoming one. At present I'm only half a grandee. Three months ago a friend, my legal adviser, a law stationer's senior clerk, near Chancery Lane, said to me, "Box, my boy, you've got Spanish blood in you." I said that I had suspected as much from my peculiar and extreme partiality for the vegetable called a Spanish onion, and I was going to a doctor, when my friend and legal adviser said to me, "Box, my boy, I don't mean _that_. I mean that your great grandmother was of Spanish extraction." I replied that I had heard that they had extracted my great grandmother from that quarter, "I came across some papers," continued my legal adviser, "which allude to her as Donna Isidora y Caballeros, Carvalhos y Cazadores y Regalias, Salamanca, Spain, who married John Box, trader, of Eliza Lane, St. Margaret's Wharf, Wapping. Date and all correct. Go," says he--I mean my legal adviser--"go to Spain, and claim your title, your estates, and your money, and I'll stand in with you, and take half the profits." I was struck by this remarkably handsome offer, and went down to Margate to cultivate a Spanish moustache and think about it. Whenever I want to think about anything deeply, I go down to Margate. Well, one morning as I was examining the progress of my moustache, after shaving my chin and letting out some of the blue blood of the Hidalgos in a most tremendous gash, judge of my astonishment, when, walking on the beach, in among the donkeys and the Ethiopian serenaders, I saw in widow's weeds, as majestic as ever, Penelope Anne! (_Sings_) "I saw her for a moment, but methinks I see her now, with the wreath of--something or other--upon her--something brow"----and then I lost sight of her. But my Spanish blood was up. The extraction from the sunny South boiled in my veins ...