“Your Eminence will be seeing many of my old friends at St. Petersburg,” said the Emperor at last, with evasive irrelevance.
“I will make a point of seeing all those your Majesty would wish me to see,” replied the Cardinal with pointed courtesy.
“Your Eminence is most kind, and I feel sure will convey my friendly greetings to the Tsar and Tsaritsa in a far worthier manner than my poor pen could express. I would also wish to be kept in the bons souvenirs of the Grand Duchess Xenia and the Grand Duke, of whose last visit to Vienna I have such agreeable recollections.”
The Cardinal smiled imperceptibly, and his eyes rested for an infinitesimal space of time on a dainty miniature, set in old paste, which no doubt portrayed one of those agreeable recollections.
Swift as had been the Cardinal’s glance, Franz Jozef evidently had caught it, for he added somewhat nervously—
“And do not forget to lay my humble respects at the feet of the Princess Marïonoff, who, I trust, will soon visit Vienna again, the scene of her last carnival’s triumphs.”
“Any written or verbal message your Majesty designs to entrust me with will be safely delivered,” once more assented Cardinal d’Orsay.
“Take care,” said the Emperor, with a nervous laugh, “I may take your Eminence at your word, and send such voluminous messages as will encumber your overladen trunk.”
“My services are at your Majesty’s command.”
The Emperor looked keenly for a moment or two longer at his Eminence’s astute, diplomatic face, then, as if obeying a sudden impulse, he took a small key from his pocket and, opening one of the larger drawers of his writing-table, he carefully pulled out a voluminous parcel and placed it before Cardinal d’Orsay’s astonished gaze.