“I am a tomb for such things, madame.”
“That is well. And besides, you must consider that not all homicide is murder. Sometimes one is driven to kill in self-defence.”
“I have not a doubt of that.”
“I am only sorry it should, all have happened before you saw him. His squint was a rarity; it would have pleased your sense of humour. X———is the dullest little principality,” she went on, “oh, but dull, dull, dull! I am sometimes forced in despair to perpetrate little jokes. Yet you have actually stopped here five weeks. It must be as they say, that the English people take their pleasures sadly. You are a painter, I am told.”
“Yes, your Highness; I make a shift at painting.”
“And I at fiddling. But I lack a discriminating audience. I think you had better paint my portrait. I will play my fiddle to you. Between whiles we will talk. On occasions, I may tell you, I smoke cigarettes; one must have some excitement. We will try to enliven things a little. Do you think we shall succeed?”
“Oh, I should not despair of doing so.”
“That is nice of you. I have a most ridiculous High Chancellor; you might draw caricatures of him. And my First Lady of the Chamber has a preposterous lisp. I do hope I shall be amused.”
As she spoke, she extended her left hand towards me; I took it, and was about to give it a friendly shake.
“No, no, not that,” said she. “Oh, I forgot, you are an American, and the ABC of court etiquette is Sanskrit to you. Must I tell you what to do?”