He received me seated in a small ivory chair like a throne, and attired in a garment of pontifical design.
“Advance, M. Petrovitch,” he commanded in a loud voice.
As I stood in front of him, he said theatrically,
“I receive you in the Hall of the Hohenzollerns. You see around you the sacred memorials of the family which Providence has raised up to be the saviors of Europe, and the future rulers of the world.”
In response to this invitation I took a longer and more comprehensive view of the various objects already described. The Kaiser condescended to point some of them out to me with a long two-handed sword which he held.
I began to suspect seriously that the megalomania which has always formed one of Wilhelm’s characteristic traits, was overpowering his good sense.
“M. Petrovitch,” my august cicerone proceeded, “you see there the crowns which have been won and worn by my illustrious and never-to-be-forgotten ancestors. Can you guess the meaning of the diadem above—which I have designed myself?
“That,” declared the last and most remarkable of the Hohenzollerns, “is intended to be worn by that member of my Family who shall be called by the united voice of the other sovereigns to the supreme world monarchy. It is destined to be our Planetary Crown.”
I bowed in stupefaction. The Kaiser seemed pleased with the impression he had made.
“And now,” he said, “since it is necessary that I should be sure of you before I trust you with my plans, kneel down.”