The baroness, who had preferred to walk the shorter path through the park to driving around the village in the dust for the sake of receiving a ceremonious welcome, was a lovely blonde, a true Viennese, good-humored, and frank as a child.  She treated every one with cordial friendliness.  One might easily have seen that everything rural was new to her.  While walking through the park she took off her hat and decorated it with the wild flowers which grew along the path.  In the farm-yard she caught two or three little chickens, calling them canaries—­a mistake the mother hen sought in the most emphatic manner to correct.  The surly old watch-dog’s head was patted.  She brushed with her dainty fingers the hair from the eyes of the gaping farmer children.  She was here and there in a moment, driving to despair her companion, whose gouty limbs were unable to keep pace with the flying feet of her mistress.

At the manor the baroness was received by the steward, who had been sent on in advance with orders to prepare the “installation dinner.”  Then she proceeded at once to inspect every corner and crevice—­the kitchen as well as the dining-room, astonishing the cooks with her knowledge of their art.  She was summoned from the kitchen to receive the dignitaries.

“Let there be no ceremony, gentlemen,” she exclaimed in her musical voice, hastening toward them.  “I detest all formalities.  I have had a surfeit of them in Vienna, and intend to breathe natural air here in the country, without ‘fuss or feathers,’ with no incense save that which rises from burning tobacco!  This is why I avoided your parade out yonder on the highway.  I want nothing but a cordial shake of your hands; and as regards the official formalities of this ‘installation’ business, you must settle that with my agent, who has authority to act for me.  After that has been arranged, we will all act as if we were old acquaintances, and every one of you must consider himself at home here.”

To this gracious speech the vice-palatine gave utterance to something which sounded like: 

“Kisz-ti-hand!”

“Ah!” returned the baroness, “you speak German?”

“Well, yes,” replied the descendant of the Scythians; “only, I am likely to blunder when speaking it, as did the valiant Barkocz.  When our glorious Queen Maria Theresa recovered from the chicken-pox, she was bemoaning the disfiguring scars left on her face, when the brave soldier, in order to comfort her, said:  ’But your Majesty still has very beautiful leather.’”

“Ha, ha, ha!” merrily laughed the baroness.  “You are the gentleman who has an anecdote to suit every occasion.  I have already heard about you.  Pray introduce the other gentlemen.”

The vice-palatine proceeded to obey this request.  “This is the Rev. Herr Tobias Mercatoris, our parish clergyman.  He has a beautiful speech prepared to receive your ladyship; but he can’t repeat it here, as it begins, ‘Here in the grateful shadow of these green trees.’”