“I will have my breakfast served in my room this morning,” I said in an off-hand tone, as if I had lived in the Palace half my life. He was too well trained to express any surprise even if he felt any; and in a few minutes he returned with a breakfast and stayed to wait upon me.
I ate the meal in silence, and then lighting a cigar I said in a casual way—
“You have not waited upon me before, I think. I don’t recall your face.”
“I have been absent from the Palace, monsieur.”
“Ah, that explains it.”
“I returned the day before yesterday, monsieur,” he said with a quick glance and in a significant tone which showed his thoughts.
“I see, that was while I was away. Is His Majesty recovered from his indisposition?”
“By the blessing of Providence, completely, monsieur,” he replied earnestly. “But it was not serious, happily.”
“That is good news,” I said; but it struck me as singular that his recovery should be complete before my return. It seemed to lend some kind of confirmation to my former suspicion that Kalkov had played me false in regard to the Emperor.
“By the way, you will be waiting upon me for the future, I suppose?” I said after a pause.