Further Foolishness Part 21

"Right!" said Abdul, speaking in a changed voice as the ceremonies ended. "Now, then, Toomuch, what is it? Hurry up. Be quick. What is the matter?"

Toomuch rose to his feet, lifted his hands high in the air with the palms facing the Sultan.

"One is without," he said.

"Without what?" I asked eagerly of the Sultan.

"Without--outside. Don't you understand Turkish? What you call in English--a gentleman to see me."

"And did he make all that fuss and delay over that?" I asked in disgust. "Why with us in Canada, at one of the public departments of Ottawa, all that one would have to do would be simply to send in a card, get it certified, then simply wait in an anteroom, simply read a newspaper, send in another card, wait a little, then simply send in a third card, and then simply--"

"Pshaw!" said Abdul. "The cards might be poisoned. Our system is best. Speak on, Toomuch. Who is without? Is it perchance a messenger from Smith Pasha, Minister under Heaven of the United States?"

"Alas, no!" said Toomuch. "It is HE. It is THE LARGE ONE!"

As he spoke he rolled his eyes upward with a gesture of despair.

"HE!" cried Abdul, and a look of terror convulsed his face. "The Large One! Shut him out! Call the Chief Eunuch and the Major Domo of the Harem! Let him not in!"

"Alas," said Toomuch, "he threw them out of the window.

Lo! he is here, he enters."

As the secretary spoke, a double door at the end of the hall swung noisily open, at the blow of an imperious fist, and with a rattle of arms and accoutrements a man of gigantic stature, wearing full military uniform and a spiked helmet, strode into the room.

As he entered, an attendant who accompanied him, also in a uniform and a spiked helmet, called in a loud strident voice that resounded to the arches of the hall:

"His High Excellenz Feld Marechal von der Doppelbauch, Spezial Representant of His Majestat William II, Deutscher Kaiser and King of England!"

Abdul collapsed into a little heap. His fez fell over his face. Toomuch Koffi had slunk into a corner.

Von der Doppelbauch strode noisily forward and came to a stand in front of Abdul with a click and rattle after the Prussian fashion.

"Majestat," he said in a deep, thunderous voice, "I greet you. I bow low before you. Salaam! I kiss the floor at your feet."

But in reality he did nothing of the sort. He stood to the full height of his six feet six and glowered about him.

"Salaam!" said Abdul, in a feeble voice.

"But who is this?" added the Field-Marshal, looking angrily at me.

My costume, or rather my disguise, for, as I have said, I was wearing a poke bonnet with a plain black dress, seemed to puzzle him.

"My new governess," said Abdul. "She came this morning.

She is a professor--"

"Bah!" said the Field-Marshal, "a _woman_ a professor! Bah!"

"No, no," said Abdul in protest, and it seemed decent of the little creature to stick up for me. "She's all right, she is interesting and knows a great deal. She's from Canada!"

"What!" exclaimed Von der Doppelbauch. "From Canada!

But stop! It seems to me that Canada is a country that we are at war with. Let me think, Canada? I must look at my list"--he pulled out a little set of tablets as he spoke--"let me see, Britain, Great Britain, British North America, British Guiana, British Nigeria--ha! of course, under K--Kandahar, Korfu. No, I don't seem to see it --Fritz," he called to the aide-de-camp who had announced him, "telegraph at once to the Topographical Staff at Berlin and find out if we are at war with Canada. If we are"--he pointed at me--"throw her into the Bosphorus.

If we are not, treat her with every consideration, with every distinguished consideration. But see that she doesn't get away. Keep her tight, till we _are_ at war with Canada, as no doubt we shall be, wherever it is, and _then_ throw her into the Bosphorus."

The aide clicked his heels and withdrew.

"And now, your majesty," continued the Field-Marshal, turning abruptly to the Sultan, "I bring you good news."

"More good news," groaned Abdul miserably, winding his clasped fingers to and fro. "Alas, good news again!"

"First," said Von der Doppelbauch, "the Kaiser has raised you to the order of the Black Dock. Here is your feather."

"Another feather," moaned Abdul. "Here, Toomuch, take it and put it among the feathers!"

"Secondly," went on the Field-Marshal, checking off his items as he spoke, "your contribution, your personal contribution to His Majesty's Twenty-third Imperial Loan, is accepted."

"I didn't make any!" sobbed Abdul.

"No difference," said Von der Doppelbauch. "It is accepted anyway. The telegram has just arrived accepting all your money. My a.s.sistants are packing it up outside."

Abdul collapsed still further into his cushions.

"Third, and this will rejoice your Majesty's heart: Your troops are again victorious!"

"Victorious!" moaned Abdul. "Victorious again! I knew they would be! I suppose they are all dead as usual?"

"They are," said the Marshal. "Their souls," he added reverently, with a military salute, "are in Heaven!"

"No, no," gasped Abdul, "not in Heaven! don't say that!

Not in Heaven! Say that they are in Nishvana, our Turkish paradise."

"I am sorry," said the Field-Marshal gravely. "This is a Christian war. The Kaiser has insisted on their going to Heaven."

The Sultan bowed his head.

"Ishmillah!" he murmured. "It is the will of Allah."

"But they did not die without glory," went on the Field-Marshal. "Their victory was complete. Set it out to yourself," and here his eyes glittered with soldierly pa.s.sion. "There stood your troops--ten thousand! In front of them the Russians--a hundred thousand. What did your men do? Did they pause? No, they charged!"

"They _charged!_" cried the Sultan in misery. "Don't say that! Have they charged again! Just Allah!" he added, turning to Toomuch. "They have charged again! And we must pay, we shall have to pay--we always do when they charge.

Alas, alas, they have charged again. Everything is charged!"

"But how n.o.bly," rejoined the Prussian. "Imagine it to yourself! Here, beside this stool, let us say, were your men. There, across the cushion, were the Russians. All the ground between was mined. We knew it. Our soldiers knew it. Even our staff knew it. Even Prinz Tattelwitz Halfstuff, our commander, knew it. But your soldiers did not. What did our Prinz do? The Prinz called for volunteers to charge over the ground. There was a great shout--from our men, our German regiments. He called again. There was another shout. He called still again. There was a third shout. Think of it! And again Prinz Halfstuff called and again they shouted."

"Who shouted?" asked the Sultan gloomily.

"Our men, our Germans."

"Did my Turks shout?" asked Abdul.