"That depends on the way you look at it. They seem really to be mourning
the old beggar at Vienna. It is the way of a people. They like to be
ruled by a savage hand. The people, as you have heard me say before, are
fools."

The last speaker was a young man whom Armitage had never seen before;
he was a decided blond, with close-trimmed straw-colored beard and
slightly-curling hair. Opposite him, and facing the door, sat Chauvenet.
On the table between them were decanters and liqueur glasses.

"I am going to America at once," said Chauvenet, holding his filled glass
toward a brass lamp of an old type that hung from the ceiling.

"It is probably just as well," said the other. "There's work to do there.
We must not forget our more legitimate business in the midst of these
pleasant side issues."

"The field is easy. After our delightful continental capitals, where, as
you know, one is never quite sure of one's self, it is pleasant to
breathe the democratic airs of Washington," remarked Chauvenet.

"Particularly so, my dear friend, when one is blessed with your
delightful social gifts. I envy you your capacity for making others
happy."

There was a keen irony in the fellow's tongue and the edge of it
evidently touched Chauvenet, who scowled and bent forward with his
fingers on the table.

"Enough of that, if you please."

"As you will, _carino_; but you will pardon me for offering my
condolences on the regrettable departure of _la belle Americaine_. If you
had not been so intent on matters of state you would undoubtedly have
found her here. As it is, you are now obliged to see her on her native
soil. A month in Washington may do much for you. She is beautiful and
reasonably rich. Her brother, the tall captain, is said to be the best
horseman in the American army."

"Humph! He is an ass," ejaculated Chauvenet.

A servant now appeared bearing a fresh bottle of cordial. He was
distinguished by a small head upon a tall and powerful body, and bore
little resemblance to a house servant. While he brushed the cigar ashes
from the table the men continued their talk without heeding him.

Chauvenet and his friend had spoken from the first in French, but in
addressing some directions to the servant, the blond, who assumed the
role of host, employed a Servian dialect.

"I think we were saying that the mortality list in certain directions
will have to be stimulated a trifle before we can do our young friend
Francis any good