"’So I have,’ says I; ’and I should be glad, Colonel, to ask you down, but you know my wife and I have to be rather select in our choice of visitors——’ "’What the devil do you mean?’ says he. "’Only that our list of invitations is closed for the present.’ "Suppose he gets furious? Let him! I don’t know much about fencing or pistol-shooting, but I’d undertake to punch his head twenty times a week." The Count took another sip of port, and pacified himself. "Then the presentations to Her Majesty. I shouldn’t wonder if the Queen took us up when she gets to learn Annie’s story. It would be just like the Queen to make some sort of compensation; and once she saw her it would be all right. The _Court Circular_—’Osborne, May 1. Count Schönstein and Lady Annie Knottingley had the honour of dining with the Queen and the Royal Family.’ Lord Bockerminster comes up to me, and says— "’Schönstein, old boy, when are you going to give me a turn at your pheasants? I hear you have the best preserves in the South of England.’ "’Well, you see, my lord,’ I say, carelessly, ’I have the Duke of S—— and a party of gentlemen going down on the 1st, and the Duke is so particular about the people he meets that I—you understand?’ "And why only a Duke? The Prince of Wales is as fond of pheasant-shooting as anybody else, I suppose. Why shouldn’t he come down with the Princess and a party? And I’d make the papers talk of the splendid hospitality of the place, if I paid, damme, a thousand pounds for every dish. Then to see the Princess—God bless her, for she’s the handsomest woman in England, bar one!—walking down on the terrace with Annie, while the Prince comes up to me and chaffs me about some blunder I made the day before. Then I say— "’Well, your Royal Highness, if your Royal Highness was over at Schönstein and shooting with my keepers there, perhaps you might put your foot in it too.’ "’Count Schönstein,’ says he, ’you’re a good fellow and a trump, and you’ll come with your pretty wife and see us at Marlborough House?’" The Count broke into a loud and triumphant laugh, and had nearly demolished the glass in front of him by an unlucky sweep of the arm. Indeed, further than this interview with these celebrated persons, the imagination of the Count could not carry him. He could wish for nothing beyond these things except the perpetuity of them. The Prince of Wales should live for ever, if only to be his friend.