"The duke gives the dinner to the diplomatic corps to-night."
"A fine thing to be a diplomat."
"I myself prefer fighting in the open. Diplomats? Their very precious hides are never anywhere near the wars they bring about. No, no; this way. We go in at the side."
"You'll have to guide me. Yes, these diplomats. Men like you and me do all the work. I was in the Civil War in America."
"That was a great fight," remarked the officer. "I should like to have been there."
"Four years; pretty long. Do you know Herr Carmichael?"
"The American consul? Oh, yes."
"He and I fought in the same regiment."
"Then you saw some pretty battles."
Grumbach took off his hat. "See that?"
"Gott! That must have been an ugly one."
"Almost crossed over when I got it. Is this the door?"
"Yes. I'll put you in snugly. You will probably have to wait for his excellency. But you'll have me for company till he appears."
Grumbach entered the palace with a brave heart and a steady mind.
* * * * * The grand duke had a warm place in his heart for the diplomatic corps. He liked to see them gathered round his table, their uniforms glittering with orders and decorations. It was always a night of wits; and he sprang a hundred traps for comedy's sake, but these astonishing linguists seldom if ever blundered into one of them. They were eternally vigilant. It was no trifling matter to swing the thought from German into French or Italian or Hungarian; but they were seasoned veterans in the game, all save Carmichael, who spoke only French and German fluently. The duke, however, never tried needlessly to embarrass him. He admired Carmichael's mental agility. Never he thrust so keenly that the American was found lacking in an effective though simple parry.
"Your highness must recollect that I am not familiar with that tongue."
"Pardon me, Herr Captain!"
But there was always a twinkle in the ducal eye and an answering smile in the consul's.
The somber black of Carmichael's evening dress stood out conspicuously among the blue and green and red uniforms. Etiquette compelled him to wear silk stockings, but that was the single concession on his part. He wore no orders. An order of the third or fourth class held no allurement. Nothing less than the Golden Fleece would have interested him, and the grand duke himself could not boast of this rare and distinguished order. In truth, Carmichael coveted nothing but a medal for valor, and his own country had not yet come to recognize the usefulness of such a distinction.
All round him sat ministers or ambassadors; he alone represented a consulate. So his place at the table was honorary rather than diplomatic. It was his lively humorous personality the grand duke admired, not his representations.