‘I think I have already told you,’ the Minister returned with perfect coolness. ‘The man whom I am combating is Count Lamsdorff.’
‘Your colleague?’
‘Exactly. My colleague, the War Minister.’
‘Let me see if I clearly understand your Excellency. The Emperor of Austria has given the Tsar private notice of his intention to abdicate? The Tsar has promised to preserve a friendly attitude? Nevertheless, the war party in the ministry, with or without the Tsar’s connivance, are secretly preparing to take advantage of the situation in some way? Your Excellency, knowing this, and disapproving of their plans, desires to put the Austrian Emperor on his guard, in order that the scheme may miscarry?’
M. Witte punctuated this speech with a series of nods.
‘And why?’ I demanded bluntly, throwing myself back in my chair.
The Russian statesman looked at me for a minute, as though trying to make up his mind whether it would be of any use to offer me a false excuse. I prepared to listen to something about the obligations of international honour and good faith.
‘Suppose I were to tell you that I am acting under the confidential instructions of my own Emperor, who lacks the courage to put his veto on the policy of the Grand Dukes?’
‘In that case your object can be attained much more simply. Procure me a line in the handwriting of Nicholas II. to Francis-Joseph, and I undertake to deliver it, and to burn it afterwards with my own hand.’
The Russian heaved a sigh of amused resignation.