“Your excellency arrived this evening?”
“Yes,” said I, “only a few hours since.”
“How fond these Germans are of titles,” thought I. Remembering that in Vienna every one is “his grace,” I thought it might be Bavarian politeness to call every one his excellency.
“You have not been presented, I believe?”
“No,” said I; “but I hope to take an early opportunity of paying ‘mes homages’ to his majesty.”
“I have just received his orders to present you now,” replied he, with another bow.
“The devil, you have,” thought I. “How very civil that.” And, although I had heard innumerable anecdotes of the free-and-easy habits of the Bavarian court, this certainly surprized me, so that I actually, to prevent a blunder, said, “Am I to understand you, Monsieur le Comte, that his majesty was graciously pleased”—
“If you will follow me,” replied the courtier, motioning with his chapeau; and in another moment I was elbowing my way through the mob of marquisses and duchesses, on my way to the raised platform where the king was standing.
“Heaven grant I have not misunderstood all he has been saying,” was my last thought as the crowd of courtiers fell back on either side, and I found myself bowing before his majesty. How the grand mareschal entitled me I heard not; but when the king addressed me immediately in English, saying,
“I hope your excellency has had a good journey?”