“Nor can I do that, my queen. I must then ride to Potsdam, where, by the king’s command, I am to hold a secret and important conference with her majesty, the queen, that is, with her majesty of the right hand. I must, therefore, hoist anchor and sail again as soon as I have eaten, and—”
“Well then,” said Wilhelmine, with determination, “I will accompany you to the dining-room, and we will converse while you are eating.”
“Bravo! bravo! That was what I desired!” cried Rietz, laughing. “The servants shall see in how heavenly an understanding we live together; and how careful my wife is not to lose her husband’s society for a moment. Give me your arm, madam, and lead me to the dining-room.”
With a forced smile she took his arm, and permitted him to conduct her through the parlor to the dining-room. Jean had served up all manner of delicacies on a little table, and was now occupied, at the sideboard, in breaking ice for the champagne.
“Put a bottle of Rhine wine on the ice, too, Jean,” cried Rietz, imperiously, as he seated himself comfortably in the chair, leaving his “wife” to find one for herself and bring it up to the table, at which he had already made an assault on a truffle-pie. “Magnificent!” said he, after eating a few morsels, “I must tell you, my dearest Wilhelmine, there is nothing better than a truffle-pie!”
Wilhelmine turned impatiently to the servant, who was turning the wine in the freezer: “You can now go, Jean, the gentleman will wait on himself.”
“And my champagne!” exclaimed Rietz. But, with an imperious gesture, Wilhelmine dismissed the servant.
“Now we are alone,” said Wilhelmine. “Now you can speak. You wished to give me your advice.”
“Madam,” rejoined Rietz, as he carried a savory morsel to his mouth; “madam, at this moment I can advise you to do but one thing, and that is, to try this truffle-pie, it is truly magnificent!”
“You are cruel,” cried Wilhelmine, “you torture me!”