“To the command of the Pahlen Hussars, sir,--one of the proudest 'charges' of the Empire.” A rush of blood to Wahnsdorf's face was as quickly followed by a deadly pallor, and with a broken, faint utterance he said, “Good-bye,” and left the room. “A fine young fellow,--the very picture of a soldier,” exclaimed Stubber, looking after him. “A chevalier of the olden time, sir,--the very soul of honor,” said the Princess, enthusiastically. “And now for a little gossip with yourself.” It is not “in our brief” to record what passed in that chatty interview; plenty of state secrets and state gossip there was,--abundance of that dangerous trifling which mixes up the passions of society with the great game of politics, and makes statecraft feel the impress of men's whims and caprices. We were just beginning that era, “the policy of resentments,” which has since pervaded Europe, and the Chevalier and the Princess were sufficiently behind the scenes to have many things to communicate; and here we must leave them while we hasten on to other scenes and other actors. CHAPTER XLIII. DOINGS IN DOWNING STREET The dull old precincts of Downing Street were more than usually astir. Hackney-coaches and cabs at an early hour, private chariots somewhat later, went to and fro along the dreary pavement, and two cabinet messengers with splashed _calèches_ arrived in hot haste from Dover. Frequent, too, were the messages from the House; a leading Oppositionist was then thundering away against the Government, inveighing against the treacherous character of their foreign policy, and indignantly calling on them for certain despatches to their late envoy at Naples. At every cheer which greeted him from his party a fresh missive would be despatched from the Treasury benches, and the whisper, at first cautiously muttered, grew louder and louder, “Why does not Upton come down?”