"I think," and she smiled, "it is rather to compliment Rustan," and she glanced at Napoleon's favourite Eastern servant, who, wearing a superb turban, stood behind the chair of his imperial master.
Napoleon was delighted, and the two began to discuss the province of Silesia and the old ones of Prussia, which now were perhaps to be ceded to France.
Frederick William, who had been silent, at once expressed his opinion, and, as usual, got into trouble with Napoleon.
"Your Majesty," he said, and his brow darkened, while he twisted his handkerchief and knotted it in a way he had, "does not know how grievous it is to lose territories which have descended through a long line of ancestors, territories which are, in fact, the cradle of one's race," he added gloomily.
Now, Napoleon was a man who had made his own fortunes, his name had not been royal, and his race had no such cradle.
A sarcastic smile played on his lips and a laugh of derision rang through the room.
"Cradle!" he said, and his lips curled in amusement. "When the child has grown to be a man he has not much time to think about his cradle!"
The guests gazed down at their plates.
Why on earth had the King spoken?
But the Queen saved the day.