The tremendous walls of the fjord were black, but the moon poured in a flood of light. There had been a sharp breeze earlier in the evening, and Fessenden had invited the Emperor out in _Pocahontas_; then, perceiving the difficulty of keeping him quiet, had given him the sheet. The Emperor had accepted the invitation with alacrity--he was not only happy and at home in a canoe, but although he had now had several long conversations with the young American, something in this new personality evaded him, and he was determined to find it. Fessenden, on the other hand, was studying him attentively, his interest in the most remarkable specimen of living royalty quite distinct from his liking for the man. William had not refrained from questions during this past week, and Fessenden had been permitted to learn Germany from the Throne. When he had mentioned that he intended, a year or two hence, to tramp the Empire and study it from another point of view, the Kaiser had promptly extracted a promise to bring the burden of his information to Berlin. William expressed a lively sympathy for his young friend’s desire for immediate distinction, and confided some of the difficulties of majesty in getting its own way. Nevertheless he felt that Fessenden, despite his romantic enthusiasm for himself, was frank only to a certain point. He thought of all in his own depths that he could give to no man, and forbore to press him too closely; but his abnormally acute brain suspected something in that deliberate reserve which concerned himself, and he had accepted the proposal of the lonely sail in the hope of an impulsive confidence. He had no suspicion that the younger man had brought him out for the purpose of making this confidence. The wind fell, and they left the canoe to stretch their legs. “Do you really believe in the divine right of kings?” asked Fessenden abruptly. “I mean _you_.” The Emperor stared, then laughed outright. “Certainly!” he announced in that harsh abrupt voice which conveyed the impression that he had not the patience to lie. Then, having his own reasons for expanding under the influence of the lonely moon, he added: “Is not a peasant a peasant by divine law? How much more a hereditary ruler with his terrible responsibilities! With our vast fund of inherited knowledge and traditions, our instinct for rule, our gift of commanding respect and obedience, we are far more successful as rulers than your presidents, chosen every four or eight years from all sorts and conditions of life, and more often for some unworthy political reason than for any merit in the man.” He added deliberately: “The monarchs of the earth are the chosen deputies of God in Heaven; they rule their people by right divine. The time will come when you will feel this as deeply as I do now. Of course my understanding is illumined with the torch of the centuries; but there must be a beginning,” he added graciously. “And you disassociate yourself absolutely from the race?”