"I'm sure I couldn't guess," admitted the child.
"He gives them the silver platters from which he served them."
"What a splendid emperor!" cried Teresa. Then she added, "I've seen the Emperor."
"Oh, that's nothing," most ungallantly replied the boy. "Franz-Joseph walks about our streets like Haroun-al-Raschid used to in the Arabian Nights. Any one can see the Emperor; he allows even the poorest to come and see him in his palace every week; and he talks to them just as if he was a plain, ordinary man and not an emperor at all."
EMPEROR FRANZ-JOSEPH.
"Well, I've had him speak to me," answered Teresa. "At the convent he praised my work."
There was a dead silence. Herr Müller walked along, not a muscle in his face betraying the fact that he had overheard this juvenile conversation, for fear of interrupting a most entertaining dialogue.
"Has he ever spoken directly to you?" demanded the girl, seeing that Ferdinand did not reply.
"No."