“You English are always so frivolous,” said the Princess. “In Russia we have too many troubles to permit of our being light-hearted.” Reginald gave a delicate shiver, such as an Italian greyhound might give in contemplating the approach of an ice age of which he personally disapproved, and resigned himself to the inevitable political discussion. “Nothing that you hear about us in England is true,” was the Princess’s hopeful beginning. “I always refused to learn Russian geography at school,” observed Reginald; “I was certain some of the names must be wrong.” “Everything is wrong with our system of government,” continued the Princess placidly. “The Bureaucrats think only of their pockets, and the people are exploited and plundered in every direction, and everything is mismanaged.” “With us,” said Reginald, “a Cabinet usually gets the credit of being depraved and worthless beyond the bounds of human conception by the time it has been in office about four years.” “But if it is a bad Government you can turn it out at the elections,” argued the Princess. “As far as I remember, we generally do,” said Reginald. “But here it is dreadful, every one goes to such extremes. In England you never go to extremes.” “We go to the Albert Hall,” explained Reginald. “There is always a see-saw with us between repression and violence,” continued the Princess; “and the pity of it is the people are really not in the least inclined to be anything but peaceable. Nowhere will you find people more good-natured, or family circles where there is more affection.” “There I agree with you,” said Reginald. “I know a boy who lives somewhere on the French Quay who is a case in point. His hair curls naturally, especially on Sundays, and he plays bridge well, even for a Russian, which is saying much. I don’t think he has any other accomplishments, but his family affection is really of a very high order. When his maternal grandmother died he didn’t go as far as to give up bridge altogether, but he declared on nothing but black suits for the next three months. That, I think, was really beautiful.” The Princess was not impressed. “I think you must be very self-indulgent and live only for amusement,” she said, “a life of pleasure-seeking and card-playing and dissipation brings only dissatisfaction. You will find that out some day.” “Oh, I know it turns out that way sometimes,” assented Reginald. “Forbidden fizz is often the sweetest.” But the remark was wasted on the Princess, who preferred champagne that had at least a suggestion of dissolved barley-sugar. “I hope you will come and see me again,” she said, in a tone that prevented the hope from becoming too infectious; adding as a happy afterthought, “you must come to stay with us in the country.”