If you propose this, I’ll propose that. The difference between this and that is sublime, anyway.
Dr. Zauberer’s castle is in the woods of Austria. It’s a castle of black stone, mostly. (I actually saw a gray stone, you know, you know.)
Anyways and a few, this professor was there with Dr. Zauberer. We were having seats and speaks in the backroom. You see, there was a party going on in the main hall.
I should stop here and describe the main hall. (I fear this professor never describes things.)
Okay, so the main hall is big, very ornate, and has rugs. And paintings. And tables. And ladies in dresses and fellows in…well, I’m not sure what you call what they’re wearing.
The noise was seeping through the heavy wooden door that separated us from the party, and the dancing.
“I don’t know, Dr. Z,” this professor said. “For instance, I hear one should wait until he’s sixty, and then think twice.”
Dr. Zauberer looked at me as if I had three noses.
“Oh, you don’t understand true love,” he said, rising from his seat and pacing about in a distrustful manner.
“You do?” The professor was doubtful, see.
“Oh yes indeed, you bet, of course, why wouldn’t I?”
I think I made a professorish face at that one. “Wow…”
“How long have you known her?” I asked.
Dr. Zauberer began to count on his fingers. “One…two…two and a half…three…three and a quarter…five…yes, that’s it. For five months.”
The professor may have gulped. “That’s—”
“Rather long, I know,” Dr. Zauberer interrupted. “But that’s why I’m proposing. Tonight! At this very party. Grab my cane, would you?”
And with that, Dr. Zauberer swung open the doors and strode out into the party.
I followed—without the cane. I don’t take orders, see. I refuse and refute them. It’s called the Double-R thingy.
Dr. Zauberer stopped the music, then said in a loud voice: “Hey ho, everyone! I have an announcement. Gather about. Gather about!”
And everyone did.
Once everyone was gathered about, Dr. Zauberer seemed perplexed.
“Wherever is Lisabeth?” he asked. “Where?!”
Schwarz Tauptinker spoke up first. “You know, chickit, I think she’s doing the powder thing—you know?”
“Not at all!” Dr. Zauberer returned. “Not at all!” Then he began to tap his little black belt-buckled shoes on the ground. One after the other.
Then cries were heard: “Here she is, here she is!”
And Lisabeth was pushed through the crowd to where Dr. Zauberer was standing.
“Ahh!” Dr. Zauberer gasped. “You’re brilliant, my darling!”
Now…well, the professor should say a few words here with regards to Lisabeth. Description-wise and otherwise.
Lisabeth loves to dance, and her real first name is Elizrabeth. (It was shortened.) Her hair is very dark, and her eyes are very blue, and her face is very pale. She’s a very-type of girl, see.
Anyways and my ways, anyone with a few eyes could tell that while Dr. Zauberer stood there stuttering, trying to find the right words, adoration and pure happiness was gleaming from Lisabeth’s very blue eyes–or face?
A perfect match?
“Well…Lisabeth…” Dr. Zauberer was saying. “Well…now…hope you’re enjoying the party…”
There were a few murmurs from the crowd here.
“And…and…” Then he dropped suddenly on one knee and fell to the side haphazardly before righting himself. “That smarts the knee,” he commented.
Dr. Zauberer looked up into Lisabeth’s eyes, and Lisabeth looked down into his eyes. He grasped her hand.
“Lisabeth,” he said. “Will you be my wife?”
And Lisabeth started crying.
“Dadblameit,” I said. Now it was going to get mushy.
But it didn’t.
As Lisabeth cried happily—I presumed—and the crowd was doing all that ‘awww’ stuff, Dr. Zauberer went pale and fell backwards. Then jumped to his feet.
“Never mind!” he yelled to Lisabeth.
Lisabeth started and stopped crying in a hurry, I assure you.
“What?” she asked meekly.
“Well,” Dr. Zauberer said, “it’s obvious you’re upset. I take back my proposal. Don’t cry about it. Just next time say no and spare us all this!” He motioned with his arms. “Why cry? Crying is so silly. I wasn’t going to force you.”
Then he left, back into the room, slamming the door.
Lisabeth started to cry all over again.
This professor laughed—just a bit.