“Be quiet,” she cried angrily to me, turning toward me a face red with resentment; “if there is no one here to protect me from insult I must stand up for myself, and you can bet your bottom dollar I’ll do it. Do you think I am afraid of an old hobo like that?”
The Emperor watched her with narrowing eyes as she was speaking, and it really seemed as if he understood what she said; for again he threw back his head and laughed, as if the whole thing was a joke.
“Madam,” said I, “it isn’t a question of fear or the lack of it, but merely a matter of common sense. We are entirely in this man’s power.”
“He daren’t hurt us,” she interrupted with a snap, “and he knows it, and you know it.”
“I beg your pardon, Miss Hemster, I know a great deal more of these people than you do. No Westerner can predict what may happen in an Eastern Court.”
“Westerners are just as good as New Yorkers, or Londoners either, for that matter,” cried the gentle Gertrude, holding her head high in the air.
“You mistake me, Miss Hemster; I am speaking of Europeans as well as of Americans. This Emperor, at a word, can have our heads chopped off before we leave the room.”
“Oh, you’re a finicky, babbling old woman,” she exclaimed, tossing her head, “and just trying to frighten my father. The Emperor knows very well that if he laid a hand on us the United States would smash his old kingdom in two weeks.”
“If you will pardon me, madam, the Emperor is quite ignorant. If he should determine to have us executed, not all the United States or Britain and Europe combined could save us. He has but to give an order, and it will be rigidly obeyed if the heavens fell the moment after. If you are anxious to give the Emperor your opinion of him, all I beg of you is that you wait until we’re out of this trap, and then send it to him on a picture post-card. Whatever action the Powers might subsequently take would be of no assistance to us—when we are executed.”