"But Josepha of Bavaria—is she handsomer?"
"Handsomer, your majesty," cried the old count. "It is said that she is a good and estimable person; if this be true, her soul is very, very different from her body. Indeed, her beauty may be said to rival that of the Princess Mary."
"You are a keen critic," sighed the empress. "But suppose you were obliged to marry either one of the princesses, which one would you choose?"
"Your majesty!" exclaimed the old count, horror stricken. "I never would have the assurance to raise my eyes to thoughts of marriage with a serene highness."
"Well, then," said the empress, "suppose you were a prince and her equal in birth, which one then would you prefer?"
The count looked at the floor, and was silent.
"The truth, the truth!" cried the empress. "Speak out and do not fear. Whatever you say shall be sacred with me. Now tell me, which of the two would you take to wife?"
"Well, then," said Count Dietrichstein, with a grimace of excessive disgust, "since your majesty obliges me to suppose the case, I will tell the truth. If by any artifice I could escape, nothing on earth would induce me to marry either one of them. But if the knife were at my throat, and I had no other way of saving my life, I would take the Princess Josepha, for she—"
"Speak out," said the empress, amused, though sorely disappointed. "You would marry Josepha of Bavaria because—"
"Because," sighed the fat old count, "if she is horribly ugly, she has, at least, something like a woman's bosom."