“Of course I do.”
“What kings have you taken?”
“Why, only yesterday the Gronsveld one, and a few days ago one from Neer-Itteren.”
“How—what—kings of Gronsveld and Neer-Itteren?”
“Yes, of course—those of the archery competition.”
“You confounded idiot!—did I get shaved for that? Do I look like a king of the archery competition? Why, I am king of a country—of a republic—an independent republic! Do you understand now?”
“Oh heavens!” cried the artist to himself, “the fellow is certainly touched in the upper storey, and I shall have to look out, or he’ll knock the whole shop to pieces.” He made his visitor a low bow, and said,—
“Very pleased, sir, to be honoured with your custom. May I ask your Majesty to take a seat.... How would you like your portrait, full-length, or bust only?”
“Nothing but the bust; it’s for the stamps of the country, do you understand?”
“Certainly, certainly, sir, and will you kindly look through this thing?”