LORD B. Ah! how generous, how generous an instinct!  How like you, Madam, to wish it!

QUEEN.  What I want to know is, whether, as Prime Minister, you have any objection?

LORD B.  “As Prime Minister.”  How hard that makes it for me to answer!  How willingly would I say “None”!  How reluctantly, on the contrary, I have to say, “It had better wait.”

QUEEN.  Wait?  Wait till when?  I want to do it now.

LORD B. Yes, so do I. But can you risk, Madam, conferring that most illustrious symbol of honour, and chivalry, and power, on a defeated monarch?  Your royal prestige, Ma’am, must be considered Great and generous hearts need, more than most, to take prudence into their counsels.

QUEEN.  But do you think, Lord Beaconsfield, that the Turks are going to be beaten?

LORD B. The Turks are beaten, Madam....  But England will never be beaten.  We shall dictate terms—­moderating the demands of Russia; and under your Majesty’s protection the throne of the Kaliphat will be safe—­ once more.  That, Madam, is the key to our Eastern policy:  a grateful Kaliphat, claiming allegiance from the whole Mahometan world, bound to us by instincts of self-preservation—­and we hold henceforth the gorgeous East in fee with redoubled security.  His power may be a declining power; but ours remains.  Some day, who knows?  Egypt, possibly even Syria, Arabia, may be our destined reward.

(Like a cat over a bowl of cream, England’s Majesty sits lapping all this up.  But, when he has done, her commentary is shrewd and to the point.)

QUEEN.  The French won’t like that!

LORD B. They won’t, Madam, they won’t.  But has it ever been England’s policy, Madam, to mind what the French don’t like?

QUEEN (with relish).  No, it never has been, has it?  Ah! you are the true statesman, Lord Beaconsfield.  Mr. Gladstone never talked to me like that.

LORD B.(courteously surprised at what does not at all surprise him).  No?...  You must have had interesting conversations with him, Madam, in the past.

QUEEN (very emphatically).  I have never once had a conversation with Mr. Gladstone, in all my life, Lord Beaconsfield.  He used to talk to me as if I were a public meeting—­and one that agreed with him, too!

LORD B. Was there, then, any applause, Madam?

QUEEN.  No, indeed!  I was too shy to say what I thought.  I used to cough sometimes.

LORD B. Rather like coughing at a balloon, I fear.  I have always admired his flights-regarded as a mere tour de force—­so buoyant, so sustained, so incalculable!  But, as they never touch earth to any serviceable end, that I could discover—­of what use are they?  Yet if there is one man who has helped me in my career—­to whom, therefore, I should owe gratitude—­it is he.

QUEEN.  Indeed?  Now that does surprise me!  Tell me, Lord Beaconsfield, how has he ever helped you?