Page:Harper's New Monthly Magazine - v109.djvu/584



OTHING in my long diplomatic career has given me a more sensible satisfaction than my appointment as Plenipotentiary to the Court of Regalia. This flourishing state, as most of my readers are doubtless aware, occupies that exact position in the map of Europe most liable to remarkable and romantic occurrences, surpassing even the far-famed Ruritania or the territories of Prince Otto. But my own curiosity was chiefly excited by the speculations that were rife concerning the character and policy of the young King who had just ascended the Regalian throne—a monarch of whom I heard it confidentially asserted in a London club that his education had been modelled on that of Marcus Aurelius, and his policy would probably be inspired by the example of the third Napoleon.

It was immediately after hearing this promising account that my eye caught the graceful figure of Count Seraphin Zonnbiem, who happened at that moment to be entering the room.

"Ah, Zonnbiem!" I cried. "You are the very man I want to see. I am going to Regalia next week."

"Regalia?" said he, with an air of great indifference.

"That is your native land, is it not?" I asked.

"I believe it is," he smiled; "but for Heaven's sake, my dear Fugle, don't ask me for any information about it! I feel bored already by the very mention of the name."

"You never live there?"

"Live in Regalia! I live in the world; I do what amuses me—and they still talk of a nobleman's duties in Regalia; figurez-vous!"

And with a gesture of simulated horror the Count turned towards the card-room.

"Then I shall not see you there ?" I asked, as he left me.

"If the whim seizes me, you may see me in Timbuctoo—or even in church," he laughed.

Little thinking how soon and under what strange circumstances I was to meet