“Jimmie, dear,” she said at last, “if you don’t object, I think it would be very nice to take those rooms, and entertain the gentlemen this evening.  Of course, they cannot be seen in the public dining-room, and, after all, they are gentlemen and in the Emperor’s suite, so their attentions to us, while a little more pronounced than we are accustomed to, are an honour.”

Jimmie said nothing, but went to the door and signified that we would look at the rooms.

We did look; we took them, and before noon every handsome piece of furniture from all over the house had been placed in our suite; flowers were everywhere, and servants fairly swarmed at our commands.

Jimmie, in reality, was not at all pleased by any of this, but he has such a blissful sense of humour that he could not help seeing the pitiful front it put upon human nature, both Austrian and American.  He permitted himself, however, only one remark.  This was now done with his wife’s sanction, and loyalty to her closed his lips.  But he beckoned me over to the window, and, handing me a paper-knife, he turned up the sole of his shoe, saying: 

“Scrape ’em off!”

“Scrape what off, Jimmie?”

“The servants!  I haven’t been able to step to-day without crushing a dozen of ’em!”

As I turned away he called out: 

“There aren’t any on the shoes I wore yesterday!”

A rumour somewhat near the truth had swept through the hotel, for wherever we appeared we found ourselves the object of the deepest attention, not only by the slavish minions of the hotel from the proprietor down, but from the other guests.

It was so pronounced that my feeble spirit quaked, so to borrow some of my sister’s soul-sustaining joy, I went into her room and said: 

“Bee, what does all this mean, anyhow?  Where will it land us?”

Bee’s eyes gleamed.

“If you aren’t actually blind to opportunity,” she said, slowly, “you certainly are hopelessly near-sighted.  Don’t you understand how nobody can do anything or be anybody without royal approval?  Haven’t you seen enough here to-day, to say nothing of the attentions we had from women in Ischl, to know what all this counts for?”

“Yes, I know,” I hastened to say.  “But what of these men?  You know what they will think; they are Austrians, Russians, and Hungarians, remember, not Americans!”

Bee laughed.

“A man is a man,” she said, sententiously.  “Don’t worry for fear the poor dears’ hearts will be broken.  Now I’ll tell you something.  Mrs. Jimmie’s sincere indifference and my silent eye-homage have stirred these blase officers out of their usual calm.  There you have the whole thing.  Von Engel thinks Mrs. Jimmie’s indifference is assumed, and both Von Engel and Von Furzmann are determined that my silence shall voice itself.  I have no doubt that they would like to have me write it, so that they could boast