When finally he ordered Count Salm, his Court marshal, to send for a "mandel"—fifteen pieces—of ancient eggs to vary the bombardment, Salm refusing, of course, he assaulted the Excellency, sword in hand, and a general medley ensued, in which considerable blue blood was spilt. No lives lost, yet the innocent bit of _passe-temps_ brought the Emperor’s fist and cane into play again.
"Unfortunately," said von Bülow, "Franz Ferdinand is a particularly healthy specimen of humanity."
"And even should he die like a Balkan royalty——" suggested von Wedell.
"I thought you had been unable definitely to trace Russia’s fine Italian hand in the Belgrade murders?" demanded the War Lord sharply.
"With Your Majesty’s permission, I referred to the older generation of Balkan assassins," said Udo.
"Well, let it pass, Monsieur le Duc d’Otrante." The War Lord frequently addressed his Minister of Police by Fouché’s title, while commenting upon Napoleon’s bad taste in raising that functionary to so high an estate. "After all," he used to say, "he was nothing but a spy, and as treacherous as the Corsican himself."
This, it will be observed, came with peculiar ill grace from Wilhelm, who, like the first Emperor of the French, demeaned himself to direct personally his Secret Service, and to associate with the cashiered army officers, _agents provocateurs_, etc., of this branch of government.
"What if Otto, as Emperor of the Slavs, sets up a claim for all Poland, Your Majesty’s with the rest?" Bülow had asked.
"I would rather see my sixty millions of people dead on the battle-field than give up an inch of ground gained by Frederick the Great and the rest of my ancestors!" cried the War Lord, as if he were haranguing a mob. "Besides, why should Otto, more than Franz, covet my patrimony?"
"Because of his relationship with the Saxon Court through her Imperial Highness Josepha."
"Pipe-dreams——" snarled the War Lord contemptuously. Then, seeing Bülow redden, he added: "On Otto’s part, I mean."
"I beg Majesty’s pardon—not entirely," quoth Wedell. "Dresden is still making sheep’s eyes at Warsaw, and when Your Majesty spoke about a grand Imperial palace to be built in Posen, King George remarked: ’Suits me to the ground. I hope he’ll make it after the kind American multimillionaires boast of.’ This on the authority of a Saxon noble whose family established itself in the kingdom long before Albert the Bold."