“That is not extraordinary,” she replied in a low voice. “He has never allowed himself to be photographed.”
I began to speculate how this great statesman came to be in that undignified position outside the chapel window, and to marvel at the customs of the land in which I found myself. Then I recollected that my partner expected me to dance, not muse, and we whirled on.
The waltz came to an end. As we stopped I felt myself touched on the shoulder. A man, evidently one of the officers of the household, was at my side. He addressed me by name. “His Majesty desires to make your better acquaintance when the honoured Fräulein can spare you, sir.”
It was of course a command, so I took my partner to a seat and made for the daïs. The King and the Chancellor were still chatting confidentially as I approached. The former received me very graciously, and presented me to Von Rallenstein, who shook hands in a manner which was almost British. The conversation at once glided into a perfectly easy groove; the King was very affable, and courteously interested himself in my movements, asked me how I liked the country and city, how long I thought of staying, what part of England I lived in, was pleased to hear I had come over for sport; asked me several questions on horse-breeding, and said, as the subject was one in which he took peculiar interest, he should esteem it a great advantage to have the benefit of my advice and experience, and would go more fully into it at an early opportunity. All this was very pleasant; Von Rallenstein chimed in now and again with a pertinent remark or leading suggestion; he seemed agreeable enough, and I began to think Von Lindheim’s bugbear was principally of his own making. Of course any one could see that the Chancellor was a strong man and a masterful, but, after all, he had a peculiar country to govern, and those were the qualities necessary to that end. Had I never seen that cruel, almost fiendish face at the window, I should have thought its owner a very good fellow—for his place. In this world of weaklings one does not admire a man less for his grit and power.
Presently the talk halted; and I understood from the King’s manner that the interview was to close. He dismissed me very graciously, hoping I should enjoy myself both that evening and during the whole of my stay in his country. Von Rallenstein added a word or two, and I bowed myself off.
“How did you find the King, and, more particularly, the Chancellor?” Fräulein von Winterstein inquired when I rejoined her.
“Not very alarming. But then I am—an—‘outsider.’”
A gorgeous being came up whose twinkling eyes were in ludicrous contrast to his fiercely brushed-up moustache.
“Ah, here is Herr Oberkammerer Eilhardt,” exclaimed the girl, introducing us. “Herr Oberkammerer, our friend Mr. Tyrrell wishes to be acquainted with Herr Rittmeister von Orsova, whom I know to be a great friend of yours. Mr. Tyrrell is interested in the First Regiment of Cuirassiers.”
The Herr Oberkammerer bowed with an energy begotten of Court life.