“The Dutch boatswain, Issai Koenig told me about a green monkey which lives in Amsterdam. It is very tiny and could get into an Indian nut. Papa, darling, it would be nice if I could have that monkey!”
Peter, doubting the existence of green monkeys, nevertheless was forced to promise solemnly, with a twofold oath, that he would write by the next courier to Amsterdam. Elizabeth was in raptures and began passing her hand through the blue ringlets of smoke which escaped from Peter’s pipe, to string them together, as she explained.
Anne talked about the marvellous docility and good nature of her pet Mishka, the tame seal which lived in the middle fountain of the Summer Garden.
“Why couldn’t we have a saddle made for him and ride him like a horse?”
“And suppose he dives, won’t you get drowned?” asked Peter.
He talked and laughed with the children like a child.
Suddenly in the pier glass he caught sight of Mons and Catherine as they stood in the adjoining room before the Tsaritsa’s pet, a green parrot, feeding it with sugar.
“Your Majesty’s—— a fool,” shrieked hoarsely the parrot.
He had been taught to say two phrases: “Good-morning, your Majesty;” “the parrot is a fool,” but he joined both sentences in one. Mons bending down to the Tsaritsa was speaking to her almost in whispers. Catherine lowered her eyes, slightly blushed, and listened with the affected mincing smile of a shepherdess in the “Journey to the Isle of Love.”
Peter’s face grew suddenly dark. Nevertheless he kissed the children and affectionately sent them away,