“That is well, Stepán,” said Count Lavrovski; “be sure his Imperial Highness will remember what you do for him to-day.”
Lavrovski knew he could rely on this man, all was well then for the next two days. After that—in God’s hands, he thought, with characteristic oriental fatalism.
CHAPTER V.
“And must your Eminence really leave us to-morrow?” said the Emperor Franz Jozef I., with polite regret, as Cardinal d’Orsay, Papal Nuncio accredited to the court of Vienna, prepared to rise for the final leave-taking.
“Indeed, your Majesty, did not most imperative duty call me away, I would never of my own accord have left this charming and hospitable city. As it is——” The Cardinal sighed, and a resigned expression crossed the aristocratic features of this martyr to his duty.
“I am glad, indeed, to think your Eminence has found Vienna so attractive.”
“Not so much Vienna, your Majesty, though the city is delightful in itself, but the Viennese——!” The Cardinal paused, for once in his diplomatic career, words failed him with which to convey his thoughts of this interesting subject.
“You will find in the grandes dames of St. Petersburg formidable rivals to those of Vienna,” said the Emperor pensively.
His Eminence did not reply. He recollected one or two little perfumed breaths of scandal that had reached his ears, of how one of those grandes dames of St. Petersburg had, last winter, found in Franz Jozef’s large and inflammable heart an undisputed if somewhat temporary place. There was silence for a few moments. The Emperor was evidently ill at ease, his hand was toying nervously with the trifling knick-knacks that adorned his writing-table, whilst once or twice he seemed as if about to speak, then checked himself abruptly.
The Cardinal, whose long diplomatic career had taught him the science of quiet patience, leant back in his chair and waited for what, he knew, the Emperor still wished to say to him.