“Well,” he said, his voice and looks betraying his emotion, “the Bavarian Treaty is made and signed. German unity is secure, and the German Emperor too.” We were all silent for a moment. I then begged to be allowed to bring away the pen with which he had signed it. “In God’s name, bring all three,” he said; “but the gold one is not amongst them.” I went and took the three pens that lay near the document. Two of them were still wet. Two empty champagne bottles stood close by. “Bring us another bottle,” said the Chief to the servant. “It is an event.” Then, after reflecting for a while, he observed: “The newspapers will not be satisfied, and he who writes history in the usual way may criticise our agreement. He may possibly say, ‘The stupid fellow should have asked for more; he would have got it, as they would have been compelled to yield.’ And he may be right so far as the ‘compelled’ is concerned. But what I attached more importance to was that they should be thoroughly pleased with the thing. What are treaties when people are compelled to enter into them! And I know that they went away pleased.... I did not want to squeeze them or to make capital out of the situation. The Treaty has its deficiencies, but it is for that reason all the more durable. The future can supply those deficiencies.... The King also was not satisfied. He was of opinion that such a Treaty was not worth much. My opinion is quite different. I consider it one of the most important results which we have attained during recent years. I finally succeeded in carrying it through by exciting apprehensions of English intervention unless the matter were speedily settled.... As to the question of the Emperor, I made that proposal palatable to them in the course of the negotiations by representing that it must be easier and more satisfactory for their sovereign to concede certain rights to the German Emperor than to the neighbouring King of Prussia.” On the Minister then speaking somewhat slightingly of the King of Bavaria, he was like a boy, did not know his own mind, lived in “dreams,” and so on--Abeken (who had entered in the meantime, and was naturally aggrieved at these remarks) said: “But surely the young King is a very nice man!” “So are all of us here,” said the Chief, as he looked round at the whole company one after another. Loud laughter from the Centre and the Left. Over a second bottle of champagne which he drank with us, the Chief came (I forget how the subject was introduced) to speak of his own death. He asserted that he should die in his 71st year, a conclusion which he arrived at from some combination of figures which I could not understand. I said: “Excellency must not do that. It would be too early. One must drive away the Angel of Death!” “No,” he replied. “In 1886--still fifteen years. I know it. It is a mystic number.”