"Well, Karl," the Prince was saying, with his kindly air, "thou breathest again here, I doubt not. This place is more to thy mind than Joyeuse—n'est ce pas? There is life here and intrigue. It is better even than Rome? Is it so?"
"Wherever the Serene Highness is," replied Karl graciously, "I am content and happy. I was happy in Rome, in Joyeuse, at Wertheim; but I confess that I like Wien. There is colour here, and quaintness, and esprit."
Karl had picked up many art terms with the rest of the princely household.
"Ah! Wertheim!" said the Prince, rather sadly as it seemed. "I like Wertheim, ah! so much—for a day or two. One is so great a man there. I know every one, and every one knows me. I feel almost like a beneficent Providence, and as though I had discovered the perfection of art in life. When I walk in the garden avenue after dinner, between the statues, and every one has right of audience and petition, and one old woman begs that her only son may be excused from military service, and another that her stall in the market may not be taken away; and one old man's house is burnt down, and he wants help to rebuild it, and another craves right of wood-gathering in the princely forests, and another begs that his son may be enrolled among the under-keepers and beaters of the game, with right of snaring a hare,—and all these things are so easy to grant, and seem to these poor folks so gracious, and like the gifts of heaven, that one thinks for the moment that this must be the perfection of life. But it palls, Karl; in a day or two it palls! The wants and sufferings of the poor are so much alike; they want variety, they are so deficient in shade, they are such poor art!" and the Prince sighed wearily.
"That is natural for the Serene Highness," said Karl, with a sympathising pity which was amusing; "that is natural to the Serene Highness, who does not see below the surface, and to whom all speak with bated breath. There is plenty of light and shade in the lives of the poor, if you go deep enough."
"Ah!" said the Prince with interest, "is it so? Doubtless now, within a few yards of us, there are art-scenes enacted, tragedies and comedies going on, of which you know the different rôles—one of which, maybe, you fill yourself. Eh, Karl?"
"It is a great city, Highness," said Karl. "They are all alike, good and ill, love and hatred, the knave and the fool. All the world over, it is much the same."
At this moment, the hair-powdering being over, the Prince rose.
"Well," he said, "to-night the Signorina sings at the Imperial Theatre. She and the Maestro sup with me afterwards. The Princess sups at the Palace."