Fritz. Your Royal Highness is, of course, right. But what I say to myself is that the ALL-HIGHEST, your Royal Highness's most gracious father, has in all this a deep-laid design to show conclusively that all these HINDENBURG plans mean nothing, so that in the end true skill and merit may have a chance, and the chief command may be placed in the only hands that are fit to exercise it. Oh, yes, I know what I'm talking about, and everyone I meet says the same.
The C.P. I have always felt that that must be so. No matter, a time will come. By the way, Fritz, have you packed up the Sèvres dinner-service?
Fritz. I have already packed six from as many different French and Belgian houses, and have sent them to Berlin, according to your Royal Highness's directions. Which does your Royal Highness refer to?
The C.P. I mean the one with the simple pattern of pink flowers and the coat-of-arms.
Fritz. Yes, that I have packed like the rest and have sent off.
The C.P. And the silver dishes and the lace?
Fritz. Yes, they have all gone.
The C.P. Good. And the clocks?
Fritz. Yes, I did in every case what your Royal Highness ordered me to do.
The C.P. And you packed them, I hope, with the greatest care?