"It would certainly have been more convenient," said Baron Binder, "if the King of Prussia had visited us in Vienna."
Kaunitz turned his large eyes full upon his friend.
"I suppose," said he, "that you jest, Binder; for you MUST know that it is never safe to have your enemy under your own roof."
"Your highness, then, has no confidence in the protestations of love that are going on between the emperor and the king?"
The prince made no reply. He was looking at himself in a mirror, criticising his toilet, which had just been completed by the expert Hippolyte. Apparently it was satisfactory, for he looked up and spoke:
"You are a grown-up child, Binder; you stare, and believe every thing. Have you not yet learned that statesmanship recognizes nothing but interests? To-day it is to the interest of Frederick to squeeze our hands and protest that he loves us; to-morrow (if he can), he will put another Silesia in his royal pocket. We, too, have found it convenient to write him a love-letter or two; but to-day, if we would, we would pluck off his crown, and make him a little margrave again! Our intimacy reminds me of a sight I once saw while we were in Paris. It was a cage, in which animals, naturally antagonistic, were living in a state of perfect concord. A dog and cat were dining sociably together from one plate, and, not far off, a turkey-hen was comfortably perched upon the back of a fox, who, so far from betraying any symptom of appetite for the turkey, looked quite oblivious of her proximity. I gave the keeper a louis d'or, and he told me his secret. The dog's teeth were drawn, and the cat's claws were pared off; this, of course, forced both to keep the peace. As for the turkey-hen, she was fastened to the back of the fox with fine wire, and this was the secret of her security."
"Ah!" cried Binder, laughing, "this is the history of many a human alliance. How many foxes I have known who carried their hens upon their backs and made believe to love them, because they dared not do otherwise!"
"Peace, Binder, my story is not yet ended. One morning the dog and the cat were found dead in THEIR corner; and in the other, the fox lay bleeding and moaning; while of the hen, nothing remained save her feathers. Time—the despot that rules us all, had outwitted the keeper and asserted the laws of Nature. The cat's claws had grown out, and so had the dog's teeth. The fox, after much pondering over his misfortunes, had discovered the reason why he could not reach the hen; and this done, he worked at the wires until they broke. Of course he revenged himself on the spot by gobbling her up; but in his wrath at the wires, he had thrust them so deeply into his own flesh that the wounds they made upon his body caused his death. And so ended the compulsory alliance of four natural enemies."
"Does your highness apply that anecdote to us?" asked Binder. "Are we to end like the cat and the dog?"
"For the present," said Kaunitz, thoughtfully, "our teeth and claws are harmless. We must wait until they have grown out again!"