Pleased to Meet You/Chapter 3
To Herr Guadeloupe, who was accustomed to the primitive ministrations of one peasant maid, it was hardly credible that these were all servants. For an instant, seeing so unexpectedly large a gathering, the notion occurred to him that this was a conspiracy of die-hard royalists, met for some final desperation in honour of the old régime. But Romsteck, advancing with episcopal mien, was a reassuring figure; so impressive indeed that the embarrassed President at first imagined him some dignitary of the League of Nations, left behind to supervise the installation. For the League he had a wholesome horror, having learned that all its dealings cost him toil and responsibility. There was no knowing when the Paris-Constantinople Express might not drop off, at the junction a few miles away, another committee of gentlemen with brief-cases empowered to look into Illyrian affairs.
"Welcome, Herr President," said Romsteck solemnly. "You find the staff assembled to do you honour. I am the major domo."
"How do you do, Major," said Guadeloupe nervously. He removed his hat and bowed formally. Straightening again he found a tall figure in uniform holding out a hand, which he grasped with grateful cordiality.
"Your hat, Herr President," Romsteck explained.
The President tried to catch Nyla's eye, to know whether the time had come to remove his gloves.
"My gloves, Major. That is, I mean, my daughter."
"The Fräulein is worthy of this ancient house's tradition of beauty," said Romsteck gallantly. "I present Frau Innsbruck, the housekeeper."
"Also worthy of the ancient tradition," said the flustered President. Then, noticing the lady's age, he attempted to improve on the remark. "We shall cohabit in friendly tranquillity, I'm sure."
"The Herr President does me too much honour," said Frau Innsbruck.
"Don't forget to pay the taxi," Nyla whispered in his ear.
A gloved hand is awkward in rummaging a trouser pocket. It came out with some bank notes but also with the toothbrush which he had remembered at the last moment.
"My luggage," he began.
"It shall be well cared for, Herr President. If you will entrust it"
Another open palm was ready; this time he knew enough not to shake it, but gave it the toothbrush instead. It was borne ceremoniously away.
"I mean to say my luggage will be here presently."
"The Herr President's portfolio," said the taxi-man officiously, coming forward with the brief-case, to which he had obstinately clung.
"Pardon, Major, but have you any change?" Herr Guadeloupe, thriftily examining his money, could find nothing less than a fifty florin note. It suddenly occurred to him to wonder whether Presidents have expense accounts. This was a point that had not been covered by the constitutionalists from Geneva.
"Health and happiness to the new Republic," ejaculated the taxi-man, "and perhaps at such a moment the Herr President"
"I will arrange the matter," said Romsteck severely.
Frau Innsbruck was already escorting Nyla upstairs, and the anxious statesman felt free to discard his gloves. He was more terrified than cheered by the grave politeness of the unknown official. All his democratic instincts prompted him to suggest some little friendly celebration. He felt an immense eagerness to catch all these observant eyes with a cordial nod; he would have liked to make a short speech on the future of Illyria and follow it by treating to a drink all round. In the rustic meetings to which he was best accustomed this would have been enormously successful, but this company of maids in neat uniforms and footmen in white cotton stockings was an audience he did not understand. He was clearing his throat to make some general salutation when Romsteck advanced upon him sombrely with a whisk brush and dusted off his coat.
"The Herr President's trousers," he said sharply, and a footman knelt down to rearrange the drape of those garments.
"I'm afraid they're too long," said the President bashfully. "Please, Major, do not trouble yourself—I must shorten my suspenders." He looked round unhappily, almost fearing they would insist on his doing so immediately.
"The Grand Duke always liked to have his trousers adjusted when he came in from outdoors," said Romsteck.
"I believe I arrived sooner than you expected."
"It is of no consequence," said Romsteck. "Your apartments are in readiness. Now, Herr President, if you please I will conduct you through the mansion." He gave a sign of dismissal, and the attendants dispersed. The younger chambermaids, who had been on the verge of nervous titters, fled hurriedly to talk it over. Guadeloupe wiped his forehead.
"You are very kind," he said. "This, you will understand, is something of an ordeal."
They stood in the great paved hall, where the beautiful stone stair, with its wrought-iron balustrade, runs up to a gallery overhead. Along the wall hung portraits of old seventeenth century Dukes of Farniente. The President had hardly realized yet that he was actually going to live in this place. He felt more like a visitor in a museum.
"I always wondered what the palace was like inside," he said politely. "It must be difficult to keep warm in winter."
"This is the Red Room," announced Romsteck, leading the way to an adjoining chamber. "This escritoire of rosewood and mother-of-pearl was a masterpiece of the great Venetian cabinet-maker Belluno. The tapestry, with the monogram of the Hapsburgs, was given to the palace by the Emperor Maximilian. In this room the Grand Duke used to meet his ministers for business discussions, mainly to increase the taxes. Behind these curtains was where the anarchist concealed himself when he fired at the Grand Duke Moritz. You see, there is plenty of space for an assassin to hide." With a dramatic air he pulled the hangings aside. Guadeloupe was relieved to observe that the embrasure was empty. He wondered whether he and his cabinet could successfully discuss the rehabilitation of the florin—a subject involving much lively argument—sitting on those fragile gilt chairs.
"On this other side," continued the major domo, throwing open large glass doors, "is the grand salon. It overlooks the terrace and the rose garden. The stream, you notice, runs just beneath. We call it a moat, but of course it is really the river."
"There ought to be good fishing," said Guadeloupe cheerfully. "I dare say there are carp in that water. I could catch one for supper some day. A carp, stuffed with chestnuts, is very good eating."
Romsteck tactfully avoided the subject of fish. "The carved panels over the mantel," he pointed out, "have three bullet holes, which have been carefully retained as a souvenir of the revolution in '48. This is known as the Blue Room; here you will receive the representatives of foreign governments. The American commissioner, for instance, desiring to know when the next installment will be paid."
The President skidded a little on the polished floor, but followed his guide without comment.
"At the north end of the palace, adjoining the tower, is the ballroom. In the north tower is the Purple Room. There the Grand Duke used to entertain specially favoured ladies."
The President brightened a little.
"There was once an underground passage from the cellar of the tower, beneath the moat, to a summerhouse in the park. It was there that the Duke escaped during the Terror."
"I hope it is still open," said Guadeloupe.
"The Yellow Room, a small parlour painted with Cupids, is between the ballroom and the salon. The Duke used to play cards there after dinner. The American ambassador often came down from Vienna to play poker with him."
"I think I have heard that the Duke was unlucky at cards," said the President.
"To be in debt to America is quite in the Farniente tradition," remarked the other. "The Dukes of Illyria always led lives full of romantic hazard. There is hardly a chamber in the palace that has not been the scene of some deed of violence. In the state dining room the crystal chandelier is chipped; that happened when His Grace was attacked by a demented footman who disliked his table manners. Beyond the dining room is the billiard room, and past that, in the south tower, the Dark Room."
"The Dark Room? Was the Duke a photographer?"
"He had a hobby that way. Not all his exposures were in the most delicate taste. It used to be His Grace's boast that in a different walk of life he could have prospered as a merchant of Parisian postal cards. In fact, very likely that is what he is doing now. But this is called the Dark Room with a double significance. It was there that Prince Oscar was murdered. They laid out the body on this billiard table."
The President was growing a little weary. He had had a difficult morning, and in the stress of packing and getting off he had gone without lunch.
"I suppose, Major," he suggested politely, "there is a room where we might sit down with a glass of beer and a pipe?"
"The Grand Duke, at this hour of the afternoon, would sometimes take a cup of tea, in the English fashion," said Romsteck firmly. "But he never smoked. His laxities, if I may be so candid, were quite of another sort. The British ambassador, who occasionally came here to play tennis, was encouraged to confine his pipe to the garden."
Herr Guadeloupe had less than no enthusiasm for tea, but he dared not demur.
"It is kind of you, Major, to put me wise to these matters. I trust you will sit down with us and enjoy a cup. When must you return to Geneva?"
"To Geneva?" exclaimed Romsteck. "I have never visited Geneva."
"Oh? Well, then, which of the Great Powers do you represent?"
"And still I can't make him out," Guadeloupe complained to his daughter when he finally escaped upstairs to wash and prepare himself for tea. "If he's a major why doesn't he wear uniform? And how was I to know who he was? I thought he must be at least another Lloyd George."
"Never you mind, Daddy," she consoled him. "Isn't it all wonderful? It's like living in a fairy tale."
"Like living in a cemetery," he said morosely. "I've seen the places where all the Dukes were murdered or shot at."
"Wait till I get hold of that solemn old creature," she cried gaily. "I'll teach him not to bully you. And what do you think? I have a maid to look after me, a darling, called Lorli. And a bathroom all to myself—did you ever hear of such a thing?"
"Why, so have I," exclaimed the President, exploring. "It must be mine, for they've put my toothbrush here. Private bathrooms. Good heavens, they always said the Duke was a libertine, it must have been true."