The dinner went merrily forward. The names of the dishes were strange, but their quality was unexceptionable. Amongst other specialties, a delicate fish soup gained the approbation of the party, although Ivan lamented that it could only be made in perfection of the sterlet, not to be found anywhere except in the waters of the Oka, the river near which he had spent his childhood. Emile devoted himself assiduously to certain delicious chicken cutlets called “Côtelettes à la Pojarsky” in honour of Ivan’s heroic ancestor; although, when he heard the name, he somewhat ungallantly sought to dissuade Clémence from partaking of them. Rare wines, flavoured with peaches, apricots, and prunes, accompanied the little banquet; and the fruits, ices, and confectionery were voted perfectly “ravishing” by Emile and Stéphanie, nor did any one dispute their verdict. It would have been well if Ivan’s guests had been equally harmonious upon other subjects. But it was impossible, in a crisis like the present, not to talk of public events, and just as impossible to talk of them without differences of opinion. The party consisted of three ardent Legitimists, a Buonapartist, a Russian devoted to his Czar, and a clever, observant child, whose sole political creed as yet was that everything done in the world ought to contribute to the amusement and gratification of Stéphanie de Sartines. Ivan’s ideas of politeness, perhaps a little overstrained, led him to say everything he could think of in praise of Paris; and M. de Sartines replied by a tribute to the magnanimity of the conqueror, who spared the splendid city when it lay at his mercy. “Your Emperor,” he said, “has shown himself generous to his fallen enemies.” “Monsieur,” replied Ivan, “my Czar has no fallen enemies. With him the unfortunate ceases at once to be the enemy.”[53] “It has been a great disappointment to us,” said Madame de Talmont, “that we failed to see him to-day.” Emile had one of his small sharp darts in readiness for his Royalist cousins. “It is not so easy to see the Emperor Alexander since the return of Louis Dix-huit,” he said. “It is no secret that the Bourbon is jealous of the Czar. In order not to interfere with his most Christian Majesty’s ‘divine right’ to be the admired of all admirers in his own capital, Alexander appears to efface himself. He even takes his daily walk at four in the morning, before the ‘beau monde’ is astir and ready to gaze at him.” “Papa,” asked Stéphanie, “what is divine right?” “Inhuman wrong,” said Emile under his breath. “Try this iced pine-apple, mademoiselle,” interposed Ivan, afraid of an argument. “It goes very well with these almond biscuits.” “This is the third or fourth time, I believe, that the Emperor has gone to Malmaison,” said M. de Sartines a little stiffly. “He is certainly very attentive to the ex-Empress Joséphine.”