Michael, in desperate conversational efforts next morning at breakfast, mentioned the fact that the German Emperor had engaged him in a substantial talk at Munich, and had recommended him to pass the winter at Berlin.

It was immediately obvious that he rose in his father's estimation, for, though no doubt primarily the fact that Michael was his son was the cause of this interest, it gave Michael a sort of testimonial also to his respectability.

If the Emperor had thought that his taking up a musical career was indelibly disgraceful--as Lord Ashbridge himself had done--he would certainly not have made himself so agreeable.

On anyone of Lord Ashbridge's essential and deep-rooted snobbishness this could not fail to make a certain effect; his chilly politeness to Michael sensibly thawed; you might almost have detected a certain cordiality in his desire to learn as much as possible of this gratifying occurrence.
"And you mean to go to Berlin ?" he asked.
"I'm afraid I shan't be able to," said Michael; "my master is in London." "I should be inclined to reconsider that, Michael," said the father.
"The Emperor knows what he is talking about on the subject of music." Lady Ashbridge looked up from the breakfast she was giving Petsy II.
His dietary was rather less rich than that of the defunct, and she was afraid sometimes that his food was not nourishing enough.
"I remember the concert we had here," she said.

"We had the 'Song to Aegir' twice." Lord Ashbridge gave her a quick glance.