Punch (95.1888)

Septembbb 8, 1888.] PUNCH, OR THE LONDON CHARIVARI.

109

A LESSON FROM THE AUTUMN MANOEUVRES,

the effective use of mounted infantry.

THE PRINCESS PAPOFFSCHTN'S LITTLE DINNER.

(A Story d la Mode for Those who Know.)

The sitting of the International Conference for the Suppression of
Bounties on Sugar had been prolonged to an unusually late hour.
The assembled. Ministers had been dealing with a delicate phase of
reciprocal engagements, and had determined not to separate until
they had at least a rough draft of the Convention in something like
a completed shape; and having accomplished this, they were about
to rise, when a Messenger entered, and handed a note to the Baron.

It was a scented epistle on rose-leaf paper, and ran as follows:—■

Mon Cues Bakon,

You must be weary after your labours of this afternoon, and
will need relaxation. What do you say to a petit diner chez moi to
refresh you ? Persuade, then, your good confreres to join you, and
come, all of you, sans ceremonie, just as you are, and honour me
with your company. I may, pent etre, have des nouvelles de Constanti-
nople to give you. Mais, nous verrons ce soir, n'est-ce pas f Come.
Yours always devotedly, Fedeorevna Papoefschin.

" It is from the Princess," said the Baron, his face beaming with
a kindling radiance as he glanced at the contents of the dainty
missive before Mm. " She asks us all to dine with her quite inform-
ally. Listen! " Then he read the little note. There was a murmur
of approbation from the Conference. Instantly they rose as if by one
accord, and hurriedly collecting the business papers before them,
thrust them into their respective coat-pockets. They had all of
them only one reply to make. They accepted with enthusiasm. Nor
was this surprising. The Princess Fedeokevna Papofeschin was
no ordinary woman.

Bom in Russia, she soon after the death of her husband, the Prince,
had appeared in diplomatic society in Belgrade, and had rapidly, by
her intelligence, tact, and capacity for intrigue, succeeded in getting
herself such an acknowledged factor in the stirring political move-
ment of the times that she had received her passports, and had been
requested to leave the country at twenty-four hours' notice. Trans-
ferring in turns her residence to Vienna, Madrid, Berlin, and other
European capitals where similar experiences invariably after a time
awaited her, she was next heard of as the intimate friend of several
Parisian statesmen of note, and though her career in the French capi-
tal had come to a rather sudden termination, owing to the connection
of her name with a celebrated cafe cliantant scandal, she seemed to
have preserved enough of her reputation to assure her a hearty welcome
among the leading lights of English diplomatic society. Regarded
as intimately acquainted with the secret counsels of the Sultan, her
friendship was eagerly cultivated by the heads of the Foreign Office,
and it was not an uncommon sight to see her surrounded in some
West End salon by a thronging crowd of politicians and statesmen
hanging on her lightest word. Indeed, it was stated that the Premier
himself was so deep in her confidence that the entire direction of his
Eastern Policy had latterly been due to her advice and influence. It
was not to be wondered at that the Conference accepted her invita-
tion with alacritv. A chance of an informal evening with the fasci-
nating Princess "in her delightful mansion in Mayfair out of the
season was not an experience to be missed, and at a little before a
quarter to eight three four-wheelers conveying the expectant Pleni-
potentiaries were making their way up Piccadilly to their coveted
destination.

In the course of the same afternoon the Princess had prepared for
their advent. She had sent for her Major Domo. " I have a little
dmner this evening,''she said. " We shall be eighteen." Then she
added, significantly, " I am expecting diplomatists."

The man bowed profoundly. He had understood his orders. He
knew that the dishes were to be drugged, and the champagne
doctored with morphia.

Several "courses had been disposed of, and the dinner was appa-
rently promising to be a great success. Never was hostess more
bewitchingly entertaining; never were guests more enthusiastic.
On the right of the Princess sat the Baron, on her left the German
Count. The conversation was airy and brilliant.

"How about those promised nouvelles from Constantinople,
Princess?" Iasked the Baron, endeavouring to give the talk a
practical turn. But his fair hostess only replied with a little timely
badinage, and motioned to the servant to fill up her interlocutor's
glass with more champagne. So the dinner sped on. The cuisine
was pronounced excellent, the wine superb. But little by little,
almost imperceptibly, the conversation began to quiet down. It
halted strangely. Then it dropped altogether. It seemed as if all
the guests were gradually becoming so absorbed in some private
reflections of their own, that they did not care to break the silence
for the jmrpose of imparting their thoughts to their neighbours.
Then some of them closed their eyes.

The Baron, who noticed the soporific influence stealing over
him, thought that he must somehow have been taking too much
wine, and elected to hold his tongue. He struggled against the
feeling for a short time. Then he succumbed. In like manner, in
a few more minutes, so did all the rest. And it was not to be won-
dered at. Thev had had bromide of potassium in the Potage d la
3Iaintenon, and had just partaken of a Salade d la Pusse mixed
with chloral hydrate. This had finished them. They had all of
them sunk back into their chairs, overcome by a profound narcotic
slumber. Then the Princess rose. She approached the wall, and
touched a little brass knob. Instantly a panel slid back, disclosing a
chamber beyond.

" Entrez, Monsieur V Ambassadeur," she said, addressing some
one within. " Voyons ! Ces Messieurs are ready to receive you."

She had scarcely spoken when a tall personage, wearing a fez,
crossed the threshold. This was the Turkish Ambassador, and he was
followed by twelve Secretaries of the Legation.

"You are sure, Madame, they will not wake?" he asked, cau-
tiously surveying the prostrate forms before him.

The Princess replied by striking a loud dinner-gong. Not one of
the sleepers stirred. The Ambassador was satisfied.

" To your work, Messieurs," he said, addressing his subordinates.
In another minute the pockets of all the unconscious Plenipotentiaries
had been rifled of their contents which were being rapidly but methodi-
cally transcribed by the practised Secretaries.

The task did notf ake long. It was over in four hours and three-
quarters. The papers were returned to the pockets of the different
Ministers from which they had been respectively- abstracted. Their
coats were carefully rebuttoned. Then the Turkish Ambassador
withdrew.

That night he telegraphed to Constantinople in cypher. ^

A little later, eighteen cabs in charge of eighteen policemen were
conveying the now recovering Ministers to their respective homes.
That which contained the Baron, now partially aroused, had draw up
at his own door. As he descended, though still dazed, he seemed to
notice the Policeman's uniform. , • .

"Why! what does this mean?" he asked, trying to collect his
scattered thoughts. _'' Where have I come from ? '

The Policeman smiled.

The Baron stared inquiringly at the smiler, then staggered feebly
up the steps, entered the house, and went to bed.

The next morning the Marquis and the Baron received a telegraphic
despatch from the British Minister at Constantinople, infonning them
that the Sultan proposed an immediate seizure of Egypt.

"That's odd," they remarked, thoughtfully. But they never
connected the circumstance with the Princess Papoffschin's Little
Dinner.

Poetry and Partridges.

"Fiest Love never lasts," says some stupid old song ;

It simply dies out like an ill-lighted ember.
The Poet—as usual—is utterly wrong—

Just look at Man's love for the First of September!
Fickle Romeos may shift in their amorous troubles
But " First Love" is stable enough—in the Stubbles!

Betsy the Second.—At Hammersmith, the other day, one Eliza-
beth Tudor was sentenced by Mr. Paget to two months' imprison-
ment for stealing a sovereign. Elizabeth Tudoh the First antici-
pated the crime in the matter of Maby Stuaet. Three hundred
years ago it was a case of stealing a sovereign—with an axe! History
repeats itself.

vol. xcv.

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