“Pardon me, mademoiselle; you use the word imperial in a manner which is incomprehensible to me—you speak of a really imperial joy, of a truly imperial surprise. Will you permit me to ask you why you make use of this peculiar expression?”
“If you had ever travelled through the holy Russian Empire,” she replied, with a haughty look, “you would know that we use the word imperial in the same sense as you in Germany say divine. Are you amazed at that?”
“Indeed, mademoiselle,” answered the professor calmly, “I never imagined that the words imperial and divine could be synonymous, for the reason that there is an infinite difference between the emperor and God.”
“That is your view of the subject, but we think differently in our holy empire,” replied the arrogant beauty. “In Russia, the emperor is the most exalted of beings; he is the autocrat of all Russia, and upon his dominions the sun never sets. If we wish to express the highest degree of joy, of surprise, of pleasure, or of beauty”—and she threw her head proudly back—“then we say an imperial joy, an imperial pleasure, an imperial beauty!”
“I am greatly indebted to you for this interesting explanation,” said the professor, bowing low.
At this moment, the sound of an approaching carriage was heard.
“They have arrived!” said Alexandra. “What a pity that our distinguished visitor from Berlin makes it necessary for papa to absent himself so often!”
“Your company, dear Alexandra, is a charming substitute for your father’s absence,” said Adolph von Sempach.
Two loud male voices in animated conversation resounded through the corridor. Alexandra ran to open the door of the salon.
“Papa, who do you think is here? You will be delighted.”
“Who is it? Can it be Prince von Bismarck?” replied a rough voice, and the governor entered the room. He was an elegantly dressed gentleman, of stout appearance, and wore a light mustache; but his rubicund countenance, which plainly betokened an unrestrained appetite, was almost repulsive, on account of the cruel look in his eyes. The visitor from Berlin followed him; he was a tall, broad-shouldered man, with a bald head, sharp eyes, a heavy mustache, which overshadowed an ugly mouth, and with features not less disagreeable than were those of the Russian.