“Yes, monsieur.”
“I am glad of that,” and I gave him a couple of gold pieces as a material proof of my pleasure. “I wish to have an audience of His Majesty this morning. Can you get my request to him? I will write it. It is important.”
“There will be no difficulty, monsieur.”
I wrote a note urging His Majesty to grant me an immediate interview and handed it to the man.
“You know who I am, of course,” I said, with a smile.
“His Highness Prince Kalkov’s man, Pierre, told me that the suite was reserved for M. Denver, an American gentleman. But he described you differently, monsieur.”
“Oh, you mean my beard. Yes, I had to shave it off. Well, get my letter to His Majesty as soon as you can.”
All was going so easily that when he had taken away the letter I indulged in a little pardonable jubilation, as I ran hastily over the heads of what I had to say to the Emperor.
It had not been so difficult, after all, to break through the cordon with which the Prince surrounded the Emperor; and my direct American methods had done well.
If I could only succeed half as well with His Majesty, Helga and I—and then my thoughts branched off to her, and all other considerations slipped out of my mind.