Davis ruefully added, “I certainly don’t despise the French. Quite the opposite. The French still have the very best wine, cognac, cheese—and women—in Europe, bar none. The quiet joke—do not repeat this to a Frenchman—among the Germans is that they were quite appreciative back in seventy that the French didn’t let their women defend the country at the border, or the German invasion never would’ve made it all the way to Paris. By the way, Peter, beware of French ladies. They are very intelligent and strong-willed.”
No need for that warning, Wake said to himself, nodding for Davis to go on.
“The Brits are the top dogs in Europe, but quiet about it. Their navy, of course, is everything to them, protecting their island nation and offering protection to others who go along with their foreign policy. They affect to espouse liberal progressive ideas, but the bottom line to them will always be protecting their worldwide empire’s trade so that Great Britain keeps the “Great” in their name. They’ll ally themselves with anyone, anywhere, to further that goal. It looks like Gladstone will soon be out of office and that Disraeli will be in, at least from what we read in the British papers we get here.”
“That’s what I heard in the West Indies, too,” agreed Wake.
Davis went on. “I think that won’t change anything in the British foreign policy, though. They’ll continue to be the deal-makers of Europe. That’s how they control Europe, through deals, not through deterrence by military action on land. The British army’s only for colonial expansion and control. Quite good at frightening ignorant natives really—Queen Vicky loves having an empire—but not a viable force in European affairs. It doesn’t have to be since they’ve got the Royal Navy, which dominates the Mediterranean and the North Sea, much to the annoyance of the Frogs and Germans. The Brits secretly delight in that, you know.”
Davis leaned into the ballroom and flagged down a waiter, who gave him three more glasses of champagne. He tossed one down and continued his discourse, slurring his words more frequently now.
“Now, where were we? Ah yes, our hosts, formerly of the Roman Empire, of which they continually remind everyone. Ad nauseum . . .” Davis rolled his eyes theatrically.
“The Italians are getting stronger internally as they consolidate their unification. The defeat, humiliation is a better word, in eighteen-sixty-six at the hands of the Austrians stunned them badly, but they’re coming back fast and have allied themselves with anyone who would shield them from the Austrian-Hungarian Empire, just across the Alps. Those folks are the ones the Italians really worry about the most, especially up here in the north. And by allies I mean mostly the French and British. The Italian army is led mostly by northerners from the Piedmont, as is the national government, and it’s credible but mainly used for internal control. The king, Vittorio Emanuele the second, is mostly a dilettante who leaves it up to the prime minister, who this week is Marco Minghetti, a pleasant fella who has his hands full just getting the Italians to all like each other. There is a big divide culturally between the north and the south in this country. Hell, Peter, they don’t even speak the same language—”
Suddenly an elegantly dressed, gray-haired, and bejeweled lady emerged from the ballroom onto the balcony, smiled at Davis, then cast an undisguised look of lust at Wake, staring at his crotch. Davis’ tone changed immediately. “Ah, Countess. Enchanté, madame. May I present Lieutenant Peter Wake, of the United States Navy?”
She curtsied low, showing her ample bosom to Wake.
“Lieutenant, this is Countess Lucia Lovran de Rijeka, of Croatia, which so unfortunately is currently being run by the Hungarians. A pity that you cannot live there, madame.”
The countess gave Davis a quick reproving glance as she stared at Wake. It was unnerving to Wake—he had never seen a woman leer before. Davis came to the rescue.
“Countess, I think I heard the Russian consul asking for you earlier. He was in the anteroom.” Davis winked at her. “I believe he is taken with your beauty, madame. It is your gift from God, and a burden also, I know.”
“Really? I am unhappy I must leave you, Lieutenant. I shall return later and then prevail upon your honor to escort me to a dance inside. A slow waltz, perhaps.” She smiled coquettishly and swept back into the ballroom.
“Thanks, Dan. Must admit, I’ve never met anyone like her before.”
“Yeah, well, there are a lot of them around here. Displaced nobility with nothing to live on but a charade. Come to think of it, this whole diplomatic culture is a charade.”
“Then why do you do it, if you hate it so much?” asked Wake.
“I never said I hate it, Peter. Quite the opposite—I love this.” He drunkenly spread his arms. “All of it. What other job do they pay you to eat and drink expensively and mingle with important people? No, no. I don’t like these arrogant fakes very much—but by God I do love this job!”
“Slow down that drinking part of the job a bit, Dan. You’re starting to get loud.”
“Yes. You’re right. It went down too easy and I’ve had too much. Now where was I in my lecture, before we were so lecherously interrupted by the countess?”
“The Italians . . .”
“Those Italians! I can’t help it, I love ’em. Their navy has some modern ships and good leaders these days, but it’s really a coastal defense force. All in all, the Italian influence in Europe is mostly financial and cultural.”
“But,” Davis warned as he waved a finger, “remember, the Italians are the ones who transformed diplomatic intrigue into
