“Only where you have the blessing of a free press,” said the Princess, in a tone of insolent mockery.
“Quite true, Princess; a free press is a tonic that with an increased dose becomes a stimulant, and occasionally over-excites.”
“It makes your people drunk now and then!” said she, angrily.
“They always sleep it off over-night,” said he, softly. “They very rarely pay even the penalty of the morning headache for the excess, which is exactly why it will not answer in warmer latitudes.”
“Ours is a cold one, and I 'm sure it would not suit us.”
“I'm not so certain of that,” said he, languidly. “I think it is eminently calculated for a people who don't know how to read.”
She would have smiled at the remark, if the sarcasm had not offended her.
“Your Lordship will therefore see,” muttered he, reading to himself as he wrote, “that in yielding this point we are, while apparently making a concession, in reality obtaining a very considerable advantage—”
“Rather an English habit, I suspect,” said she, smiling.
“Picked up in the course of our Baltic trade, Princess. In sending us your skins, you smuggled in some of your sentiments; and Russian tallow has enlightened the nation in more ways than one!”