Bülow began to scent a connection; however, the War Lord saved him further cogitation by doing all the talking.
"A madman, this Ruprecht; thinks his petty State an Indian Empire. Period: Thirteenth century, or thereabout. Dwells longingly on such scenes as Mohammed Toghlak enacted, having hundreds of rebels tossed about by elephants on steel-capped ivories, and then trampled to death to the sound of trumpets and beating of drums. ’I would like to treat our Socialists that way,’ he told me time and again."
"Using wild boars instead of elephants, I suppose," said Phili. The sally caused the War Lord much merriment.
"Egad," he laughed, "your mileage from Liebenberg is not thrown away; you liquidate the bill by _bons mots_ every time."
"I dare you tell the Reichstag," cried Phili.
"Bülow shall," said the War Lord; "but"—facing the Chancellor once more—"those muttons! With Italy a possible _quantité négligeable_, we must make doubly sure of Bavaria’s unquestioned and enthusiastic support of Berlin. Now, Phili, who has been living there many years, tells me that the Bavarian people as a whole——"
"The great unwashed," put in Phili, who will live up to his reputation as a wit or burst—in Germany one need not be a Mark Twain to succeed.
"The Bavarian unwashed," repeated the War-Lord, "do not like Prussia. The only means of gaining national support for our war in Bavaria, then, is by favour of the Crown. Otto’s is a harlequin’s cap, and you can’t ask people to rally around a War Lord more beast than man, and certainly as crazy as a march-hare. It follows: we need a sane man in Munich, Bülow—nothing short of a sane man will serve our purpose. I understand that Maximilian Joseph, ’the creature of that upstart, Napoleon,’ had a royal diadem built which has never been used. Pull it from the vaults of the Munich Hofburg, Bülow, and place it on Luitpold’s head, and if he persists in his silly refusal, on Ludwig’s."
"Majesty knows these gentlemen’s objections: ’There can be no real king in Bavaria, they say, until the constitutional incumbent is dead,’" spoke the Chancellor gravely.
"Then kill Otto," cried the War Lord. "What, miss our place in the sun for a madman! Not if I know Wilhelm, Imperator Rex. Briefly, Bülow, as there is no king in Bavaria, we must make one—one who recognises that he is _Rex Bavariæ par la grace de Roi de Prusse_ and, accordingly, is willing to do the King of Prussia’s bidding."