Flashman And The Tiger

I didn’t disbelieve it myself—although the Emperor’s part took a little swallowing. And yet … if he truly believed that a week’s rogering with a royal flashtail would put Otto in trim and keep the ship of state on a smooth course, why not? Bismarck would be all for it—he’d been the town bull around Schonhausen in his young days, and would be just as randy in his sixties. Well, it was an interesting piece of gossip, and confirmed that the haughty Princess Kralta was partial to mutton—come to think of it, Blowitz had a gift for encountering females who were patriotic riders, hadn’t he just? And of introducing ’em to me, bless him. Well, well. I returned to the point—which had suddenly become clear to me.

"Well, Blow, I’m grateful to you for rehearsing the lady’s character for me," says I. "Very instructive, possibly useful. Of course," I went on carelessly, "the secret which she believes she can learn only from me is the one that Bismarck’s dying to know—how you got the Berlin Treaty in advance. That’s it, ain’t it?"

For once he was taken flat aback. His blue eyes popped, his jaw dropped, and then he burst out laughing.

"Oh, but you should have been a journalist!" cries he. "And I hoped to amaze you with my denouement! How did you guess?"

"Come, now, what other secret do I have that she could want to know? But if you’re willing to let her have it, why not tell her yourself?" I nearly added that he could have charged her a delightful price for it (as I fully intended to, given the chance), but I knew that wasn’t his style. Odd fish, Blowitz; ready and willing to put me in the way of fleshly delights, as he’d shown in the past, but strict Chapel himself. He regarded me seriously.

"I shall tell you," says he slowly. "The Princess’s confession to me of her visit to Prince Bismarck moved me deeply. En fait, she was saying to me: `Here is my trust, ma confiance, my honour as a woman; I place it in your hands, Blowitz.' Oh, my dear ’Arree, quel geste! What trust, what proof of devoted affection!" So help me, he was starting to pipe his eye. "From such a woman, so worldly, so intelligent, so sensible, it could not fail to awaken in me emotions of gratitude and obligation. It gave her the right to demand from me an equal proof of my friendship, my trust in her. You, my friend, will see that, I know."

Well, I didn’t, in fact, but I ain’t a besotted Bohemian. He sighed, long and solemn, like an old horse farting.

"When she renews her request that I divulge my secret, I feel I can no longer refuse. It means much to her, since it will enable her to gratify Prince Bismarck, and it can bring no harm to me. I resolve, then, to tell her."

He took another gulp of brandy, leaned towards me, and became dramatic, as though he were telling a ghost story in whispers.

"We are in her salon, seated upon a sofa that stands against a great mirror covering the wall behind us. The salon is dim, the curtains drawn, the only light comes from a candelabrum on the table before us. As I prepare to speak, I see one of the candles flicker. I am astonished. All doors and windows are closed, so whence comes this draught? I move myself on the sofa—and a zephyr from the direction of the minor fans my cheek. What can it mean, I ask myself. And then—I know!"

You never saw such desperate bad acting—hands raised, eyes and mouth agog, worse than Irving hearing the bells. Then he glared like a mad marmoset, one finger outthrust.

"I realise I am the victim of treachery, which I hate above all else in the world! I closely scrutinise the mirror! What do I see but that a gap has opened in the glass! So! One stands behind the mirror, a witness to take down what I say! I rise, pointing to the flickering flame, then to the cloven mirror, just as the Princess puts out a hand to remove the candlestick. I address her in a voice which I vainly strive to render calm. `Too late, madame!' I cry. ’I have understood!' She touches an electric button, a door opens, a butler enters, and without a word the Princess indicates to me the way to the door. I bow. I withdraw. I leave the house."

He dried up there abruptly, looking expectant, so I said that after such a thrilling tale I was surprised that five masked chaps with stilettoes hadn’t leaped on him in the hall. He said stiffly that they hadn’t, and the mortification he felt at her duplicity had been keener than any stab wounds. I said that I gathered he was still on terms with the lady, though, and he blew out his cheeks in resignation.