A small table, containing cake and wine, stood in a corner of the Saloon; and here we found the Emperor and Empress waiting for us. The rest of the Saloon had been cleared of furniture, to make room for the guests. I was much struck by the great change a few months had made in the faces of the Imperial Pair. A vacant stare was now the Emperor’s usual expression; while over the face of the Empress there flitted, ever and anon, a meaningless smile.
“So you’re come at last!” the Emperor sulkily remarked, as the Professor and the children took their places. It was evident that he was very much out of temper: and we were not long in learning the cause of this. He did not consider the preparations, made for the Imperial party, to be such as suited their rank. “A common mahogany table!” he growled, pointing to it contemptuously with his thumb. “Why wasn’t it made of gold, I should like to know?”
“It would have taken a very long——” the Professor began, but the Emperor cut the sentence short.
“Then the cake! Ordinary plum! Why wasn’t it made of—of——” He broke off again. “Then the wine! Merely old Madeira! Why wasn’t it——? Then this chair! That’s worst of all. Why wasn’t it a throne? One might excuse the other omissions, but I ca’n’t get over the chair!”
“What I ca’n’t get over,” said the Empress, in eager sympathy with her angry husband, “is the table!”
“Pooh!” said the Emperor.
“It is much to be regretted!” the Professor mildly replied, as soon as he had a chance of speaking. After a moment’s thought he strengthened the remark. “Everything,” he said, addressing Society in general, “is very much to be regretted!”
A murmur of “Hear, hear!” rose from the crowded Saloon.
There was a rather awkward pause: the Professor evidently didn’t know how to begin. The Empress leant forwards, and whispered to him. “A few jokes, you know, Professor—just to put people at their ease!”
“True, true, Madam!” the Professor meekly replied. “This little boy——”