"Ask Fräulein von Isenschnibbe," he answered. "She has doubtless already considered the question from that point of view."
"If your Royal Highness asks me … enormously useful! Immeasurably, incalculably useful—that's obvious! The directors are in the seventh heaven, they're getting ready to decorate and illuminate the Spa Hotel! What a recommendation, what an attraction for strangers! Will your Royal Highness just consider—the man is a curiosity! Your Grand Ducal Highness spoke just now of 'his kind'—but there are none of 'his kind'—at most, only a couple. He's a Leviathan, a Crœsus! People will come from miles away to see a being who has about half a million a day to spend!"
"Gracious!" said Ditlinde, taken aback. "And there's dear Philipp worrying about his peat beds."
"The first scene," the Fräulein went on, "begins with two Americans hanging about the Exchange for the last couple of days. Who are they? They are said to be journalists, reporters, for two big New York papers. They have preceded the Leviathan, and are telegraphing to their papers preliminary descriptions of the scenery. When he has got here they will telegraph every step he takes—just as the Courier and the Advertiser report about your Royal Highness.…"
Albrecht bowed his thanks with eyes downcast and under-lip protruded.
"He has appropriated the Prince's suite in the Spa Hotel," said Jettchen, "as provisional lodgings."
"For himself alone?" asked Ditlinde.
"Oh no, Ditlinde, do you suppose he'd be coming alone? There isn't any precise information about his suite and staff, but it's quite certain that his daughter and his physician-in-ordinary are coming with him."
"It annoys me, Jettchen, to hear you talking about a
