"Ah!" I said. "So that is the source of all those rumours--eh? You're
a very wicked girl," I added, "even though you are a Grand Duchess."
"Well, I suppose Grand Duchesses are in no way different to other
girls--eh?" she pouted. "Sometimes I wish I were back again at school
at Eastbourne. Ah! what grand times I used to have in those days--
hockey and tennis and gym, and I was not compelled to perform all sorts
of horrible, irksome etiquette, and be surrounded by this crowd of silly
dressed-up apes. Why, Uncle Colin, these are not men--all these
tight-uniformed popinjays at Court."
"Hush, my child!" I said. "Hush! You will be overheard."
"And I don't care if I am. Surely a girl can speak out what she
thinks!"
"In England, yes, in certain circumstances, but in Russia--and
especially at Court--never!"
"Oh, you are so horribly old-fashioned, Uncle Colin. When shall I bring
you up-to-date?" cried the petted and spoiled young lady, whose two
distinctions were that she was one of the most beautiful girls in all
Russia, and the favourite niece of the Tzar Alexander. She had
nicknamed me "Uncle," on account of my superior age, long ago.
"And you are utterly incorrigible," I said, trying to assume an angry
look.
"Ah! You're going to lecture me!" she exclaimed with another pout. "I
suppose I ought never to dance at all--eh? It's wicked in your eyes,
isn't it? You are perhaps, one of those exemplary people that I heard
so much of when in England--such an expressive name--the Kill-joys!"
"No, Your Highness," I protested. "I really don't think I'm a killjoy.
If I were, I couldn't very well be a diplomat. I--"
"But all diplomats are trained liars," she asserted with abrupt
frankness. "The Emperor told me so only the other day. He said they
were men one should never trust."
"I admit that, without the lie _artistique_, diplomacy would really be
non-existent," I said, with a laugh. "But is not the whole political
world everywhere in Europe a world of vain promise, intrigue and shame?"
"Just as our social world seems to me," she admitted.
"Ah! Then you are beginning to realise the hollow unreality of the
world about you--eh?" I said.
"Dear me!" she exclaimed, "you talk just like a bishop! I really don't
know what has come to my dear old Uncle Colin. You must be ill, or
something. You never used to be like this," she added, with a sigh and
a well-feigned look of regret that was really most amusing, while at the
same time she made eyes at me.
Truly, she was a most charming little madcap, this Imperial Grand
Duchess--the most charming in all Europe, as the diplomatic circle had
long ago agreed.
So she had taken revenge upon me for uttering words of wisdom by telling
people that I had flirted with and kissed her! She herself was
responsible for the chatter which had gone round, with many
embellishments, concerning myself, and how deeply I was in love with
her. I wondered if it had reached the Emperor's ears?
I felt annoyed, I here confess. And yet so sweet and irresponsible was
she, so intelligent and quick at repartee, that next moment I had
forgiven her.
And I frankly told her so.
"My dear Uncle Colin, it would have been all the same," she declared
airily. "You shouldn't have lectured me. I assure you I have had
enough of that at home. Ever since I came back from England everybody
seems to have conspired to tell me that I'm the most terrible girl in
Russia. Father holds up his hands; why, I really don't know."
"Because you are so extremely unconventional," I said. "A girl of the
people can act just as she likes; but you are a Grand Duchess--and you
can't."
"Bother my birth. That's my misfortune. I wish I were a shopgirl, or a
typist, or something. Then I should be free!" she exclaimed
impatiently. "As it is, I can't utter a word or move a little finger
without the whole of Russia lifting up their hands in pious horror. I
tell you, Uncle Colin," she added, her fine, big, dark eyes fixed upon
me, "I'm sick of it all. It is simply unbearable. Ah! how I wish I
were back at dear old Southdene College. I hate Russia and all her
works!"
"Hush!" I cried again. "You really must not say that. Remember your
position--the niece of His Majesty."
"I repeat it!" she cried in desperation, her well-formed little mouth
set firmly. "And I don't care who hears me--even if it's Uncle
Alexander himself!"