He gave me such a withering look that I wished I had never made this silly remark.
All the same, he unbent a little and, with a dismal twinkle in his eye, his face brightening, and launching into frivolity, said: "The Emperor told me something very funny the other day. (I knew what was coming.) He asked me why I liked salad." Turning to me he said, "Can you guess the answer?"
I had many ready for him; but I refrained and only said, "No, what was it?"
"Parce qu'elle était ma mère!" he replied, and laughed immoderately, until such a fit of coughing set in that I thought there would not be a button left on him. When he had finished exploding he said, "Did you understand the 'choke'?"
If I had not understood the "choke," I understood the choking, and I thought any more jokes like this would be the end of him then and there.
I answered quite seriously, "I think I would understand better, if I knew what sort of salad his Majesty meant."
He shook his head and said he did not think it made any difference what sort of salad it was. And we became tombstones again.
I could hardly wait till we returned to the salon, I was so impatient to tell the Emperor of the Baron's latest version.
As his Majesty was near me, talking to some lady during the cercle,
I stepped forward so as to attract his attention.
He soon moved toward me, and I, against all the rules of etiquette, was the first to speak.