"Your Majesty thinks Hungary will accept her as Queen?"
"She has to, for a morganatic marriage is a real marriage according to Hungarian law."
"Which suggests the possibility of grave internal dissensions," said the Chancellor.
"Quite so; to Pan-Germanism this little governess is worth five army corps. If her marriage causes a split in the Dual Monarchy, why, we will annex German Austria and leave the Hungarians to die, if they choose, 'pro Regi nostro, Sophia.' But that's quite a long way off. What concerns us at present is getting solid with that chap. I know what you want to say: A brute, a beast. But so long as the Chotek is satisfied, I am."
The latter in response to an indication on von Bülow's part that he meant to put in a word or two.
"When I come to think of it," continued the War Lord, "neither Alexander, nor Charlemagne, nor Napoleon were what you call gentlemen overflowing with the milk of human kindness. As I see it now—my plans are not quite matured, of course—but this is certainly beyond question or dispute: As my ally in the conquest of the world, a namby-pamby partner would be of confounded little use. Besides, for sentiment I have Victor—darling fellow!"
Saying this, the War Lord gripped his sword so hard that the point of the scabbard threw a statuette of the King of Italy off an étagère, smashing it.
"There he goes," he sneered, kicking at the broken china; "uncertain commodities at best, these Dagos. Always fishing outside the three-mile limit, and everlastingly ogling with England and France."
"Majesty is pleased to under-estimate King Victor's devotion to German interests," ventured von Bülow warmly.
"When you were in Rome you used to sing a different tune," said the War Lord severely. "But revenons à nos moutons: Franz Este is a bit of a mutton thief himself"—Wilhelm laughed heartily at his quibble—"very fond of Hungary and Bohemia. We must intoxicate him with the promise of great things to be accomplished by the union of German arms—German-Austrian, of course."