“We contrive to mix up a fair share of liberty with our bondage, sir.”
“In your talk,—only in your talk; and in the newspapers, Stubber. I have studied you closely and attentively. You submit to more social indignities than any nation, ancient or modern. I was in London in '15, and I remember, at a race-course,—Ascot, they called it,—the Prince had a certain horse called Rufus.”
“I rode him,” said Stubber, dryly.
“You rode him?”
“Yes, sir. I was his jock for the King's Plate. There was a matter of twenty-eight started,—the largest field ever known for the Cup,—and Rufus reared, and, falling back, killed his rider; and the Duke of Dunrobin sent for me, and told me to mount. That's the way I came to be there.”
“Per Bacco! it was a splendid race, and I'm sure I never suspected when I cheered you coming in, that I was welcoming my future minister. Eh, Stubber, only fancy what a change!”
Stubber only shrugged his shoulders, as though the alteration in fortune was no such great prize after all.
“I won two thousand guineas on that day, Stubber. Lord Heddleworth paid me in gold, I remember; for they picked my pocket of three rouleaux on the course. The Prince laughed so at dinner about it, and said it was pure patriotism not to suffer exportation of bullion. A great people the English, that I must say! The display of wealth was the grandest spectacle I ever beheld; and such beauty too! By the way, Stubber, our ballet here is detestable. Where did they gather together that gang of horrors?”
“What? signifies it, sir, if the Austrian Jagers are bivouacked in the theatre?”
“Very true, by Jove!” said the Duke, pondering. “Can't we hit upon something,—have you no happy suggestion? I have it, Stubber,—an admirable thought. We 'll have Upton to dinner. We 'll make it appear that he has come here specially to treat with us. There is a great coldness just now between St. James's and Vienna. Upton will be charmed with the thought of an intrigue; so will be La Sabloukoff. We 'll not invite the Field-Marshal Rosen-krantz: that will itself offend Austria. Eh, Stubber, is n't it good? Say to-morrow at six, and go yourself with the invitation.”