"
Falbe nodded.
"That is what I have said to you before," he remarked. "You are the most
happy-go-lucky of the nations. Did he speak of England?"
"Yes, of his beloved England," said Michael. "He was extremely cordial
about our relations."
"Good. I like that," said Falbe briskly.
"And he recommended me to spend two months in Berlin in the winter,"
added Michael, sliding off on to other topics.
Falbe smiled.
"I like that less," he said, "since that will mean you will not be in
London."
"But I didn't commit myself," said Michael, smiling back; "though I can
say 'beloved Germany' with equal sincerity."
Falbe got up.
"I would wish that--that you were Kaiser of England," he said.
"God forbid!" said Michael. "I should not have time to play the piano."
During the next day or two Michael often found himself chipping at
the bed-rock, so to speak, of this conversation, and Falbe's revealed
attitude towards his country and, in particular, towards its supreme
head. It seemed to him a wonderful and an enviable thing that anyone
could be so thoroughly English as Falbe certainly was in his ordinary,
everyday life, and that yet, at the back of this there should lie
so profound a patriotism towards another country, and so profound a
reverence to its ruler.
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