Two lackeys at the door, more at the bottom of the stairs, still more on the first landing—men-servants seem to be the only commodity lavishly provided at the Berlin Court.
"Kammerherr, the Noble Lord von ——" (mentioning some Masurian village) "commanded to the sublime honour—Fraulein Krupp's service" (long intervals between half-sentences to show that the speaker was really a Simon-pure Prussian aristocrat) "beg to submit—with Fraulein's permission—I will conduct Fraulein to her apartments."
Bertha did not understand half the titled personage trumpeted in nasal cacophony, but a word or two from little Bassewitz explained. Then ceremonious leave-taking, as if it was for years; assurances of "unexampled pleasure experienced," of "more in store," and "Majesty is so graciously fond of Fraulein—she ought to be so happy"; in fact, there wasn't a girl "in the wide, wide world so favoured," and more polite fiction of the sort.
Up two flights of stairs; corridor thinly and shiningly carpeted; electric bulbs few and far between. Ante-room, saloon and bedchamber. In the first threadbare, red plush furniture. The bedchamber was hung in cretonne of doubtful freshness.
"I trust Fraulein's slightest wishes are anticipated. Princess von Itzenplitz last had these apartments, and was graciously pleased to express her highest satisfaction," boasted the kammerherr.
Her Grace of Itzenplitz may have done so, but the richest girl in the world was not inclined to put up with such third-class hotel accommodation!
When the kammerherr had bowed himself out Bertha sat down on the edge of the bed and had a good cry. Received like a princess, and housed like a charwoman! But she wasn't going to stand it, not she, Bertha Krupp.
Her assertiveness, newly acquired, but all the stronger for that, made her give a vicious pull to the bell-rope. She hardly noticed that it came off in her hand when a lackey, scenting baksheesh, responded.
"My servants, quick!" she ordered.
"Beg Fraulein's pardon, they haven't yet arrived from the station."