“Well, Sire, let us come to the business at hand, the subject of my last informal audience. It is true, then, that the consols for the loan of five millions of crowns are issued to-day, or have been, since the morning is passed?”
“Yes, it is true. I am well pleased. Jacobi and Brother have agreed to place them at face value. I intend to lay out a park for the public at the foot of the lake. That will demolish two millions and a half. The remainder is to be used in city improvements and the reconstruction of the apartments in the palace, which are too small. If only you knew what a pleasure this affords me! I wish to make my good city of Bleiberg a thing of beauty--parks, fountains, broad and well paved streets.”
“The Diet was unanimous in regard to this loan?”
“In fact they suggested it, and I was much in favor.”
“Friends?” The king's face grew puzzled, and its animation faded away. “None that I know. This is positively the first time we ever agreed about anything.”
“And did not that strike you as rather singular?”
“Of course, the people are enthusiastic, considering the old rate of taxation will be renewed?” The diplomat reached over and pulled the dog's ears.
“So far as I can see,” answered the king, who could make nothing of this interrogatory.
“Which, if your Majesty will pardon me, is not very far beyond your books.”
“Who can see farther than your Majesty has any idea.”
“Come, come, my friend,” cried the king good-naturedly; “but a moment gone you were chiding me because I did nothing. I may not fill my coffers as you suggested, but I shall please my eye, which is something. Come; you have something to tell me.”
“I promise not only to listen, but to hear,” laughing; “not only to hear, but to think. Is that sufficient?”
“For three years,” began the Englishman, “I have been England's representative here. As a representative I could not meddle with your affairs, though it was possible to observe them. To-day I am an unfettered agent of self, and with your permission I shall talk to you as I have never talked before and never shall again.”
The diplomat rose from his seat and walked up and down the path, his hands clasped behind his back, his chin in his collar. The bulldog yawned, stretched himself, and followed his master, soberly and thoughtfully. After a while the Englishman returned to his chair and sat down. The dog gravely imitated him. He understood, perhaps better than the king, his master's mood. This pacing backward and forward was always the forerunner of something of great importance.
