Chapter 1289: Chapter 167: Herzen-Ogarov Group (2)

“Well then, sir. Now that we’ve introduced ourselves, it’s your turn to take the stage. Please don’t tell me you’re a professor at the University of Gottingen; I know that’s a lie.”

“I didn’t deceive you, I truly am a professor at Gottingen, and also the Academic Director and National Special Representative.”

“If you insist on that, then I must be the Tsar of Russia.”

“If that’s the case, I suggest you head up to the third floor, where King Anton I of Saxony and the Duke of Sussex of Britain are waiting; you should catch up with them.”

The students burst into laughter, with Russian students waving their glasses to applaud the fine joke, while the students of Gottingen chuckled, unwilling to reveal the truth. Everyone appreciated the humor, except for Bismarck, who listened with a sense of dread.

Because only he knew that Arthur Hastings, this scoundrel, was not some great champion of liberalism, but stood beside the liberals only to seize an opportunity to stab them in the back.

Young Italy had already suffered a setback in Northern Italy, yet they still did not know who was responsible.

The foolish students of Germany were evidently worse off, having mistaken this fellow as one of their own, completely unaware that even the German youthful leader Heinrich Heine had succumbed to his financial tactics.

Now, he wouldn’t even spare the Russians living in the icy wilderness, despite having no direct connection.

Previously, Bismarck thought this man schemed to satisfy his insatiable desires.

But now it appears to be entirely inherent; he is simply a natural-born rascal.

Whether or not something is related to him, even if he saw a dog passing by, he would have to kick it.

More chilling still was the fact that such a person had once served as a British diplomat, and he wasn’t even the best among them.

Because according to his own words, there was at least one Mr. Auguste Schneider above him.

In an instant, Bismarck couldn’t help but feel sorrow for Europe’s future, and even his outlook on life seemed grim.

In the box, Herzen, trying to lighten the atmosphere with drinks, noticed this sullen guest and sat down to express concern: “Mr. Bismarck, is our sweet wine not to your liking? Apologies, I didn’t know your taste was more mature than ours.”

“Mature?” Bismarck, as if waking from a dream, lifted his head: “No, my taste is too immature.”

“Your taste is even more immature than sweet wine?” Herzen pondered, rubbing his chin: “Well, then do you need me to order you a glass of milk or citrus-flavored soda?”

“Shush!” Bismarck hugged Herzen’s neck, pulling him close: “Sir Arthur Hastings can’t stand that talk; his favorite drink is citrus-flavored soda!”

“Hahaha! Is that so? Arthur actually loves soda.” Herzen sat down, enthusiastically wrapping his arm around Bismarck: “I thought my taste was childish enough, but it seems there’s someone even more so. If Arthur he…”

Suddenly, Herzen’s smile halted as he recalled Bismarck’s words: “Sir? Are you saying he’s a British Knight?”

“More than just a Knight!” Bismarck, feigning normalcy, lowered his voice: “You must know, British knights differ from German and Russian knights; nowadays, British knighthoods are not hereditary. Do you know what that means?”

Herzen inhaled deeply: “It means every British knight is a first-generation knight.”

Bismarck nodded in agreement: “Aren’t you curious about what major achievements he accomplished in Britain that led the King to bestow upon him a knight’s title?”

“What major achievements did he accomplish?” Herzen, realizing the gravity of the matter, struggled to maintain outward composure: “Please don’t tell me, he’s actually…”

Bismarck raised his hand to speak into Herzen’s ear but caught sight of Arthur’s subtly amused expression.

Bismarck shuddered, his lips trembled, blurting out: “He is Michael Faraday’s assistant! Also the second greatest electromagnetic scholar in Britain next to Faraday!”

Herzen clutched his chest, gasping, “My God! Mr. Bismarck, thank you for telling me this fact. I’m such a fool, I thought he was lying to me before!”

The conscience-stricken Bismarck stared at Herzen’s sincere face with mixed emotions. After a long silence, he couldn’t suppress the pressure in his heart and gently patted Herzen’s hand, “Alas! Don’t blame me for not warning you, Mr. Herzen. Never offend him, for he is very small-minded.”

Herzen nodded gratefully, “I’ve already noticed that, but I still appreciate your advice, sir.”

As soon as Herzen finished speaking, the sound of classmates heckling came from behind, “Sasha! Come on! We want to hear you tell the story of the French entering Moscow!”

Herzen wanted to chat more with Bismarck, but hearing his companions’ calls, he had to turn his head and complain, “Aren’t you tired of hearing that story? Besides, I was too young then; I heard it from my nanny Aldamonovna.”

“We’ve all heard it, but the guests haven’t!”

“What a hassle!” Herzen picked up his wine glass and pulled Bismarck up, “Come, let’s chat over there.”

Bismarck was about to join the students’ gathering, but his newly developed cautious nature prompted him to first look for the focal figure’s position.

He saw Arthur, who at some point had slipped away from the crowd, standing by the window alone with a wine glass, seemingly observing something from the second floor.

What is he doing?

No, that’s none of my business, don’t get involved in his mess, hasn’t the lesson from Young Italy taught you enough?

Bismarck hesitated in place for a moment, a fierce struggle occurred between his long-standing curiosity and his newly developed cautious disposition.

However, old habits often prevail over new ones. Bismarck didn’t know why, but it was as if there was a devil inside him, driving him to step towards Arthur.

“Ahem, Your Excellency, what are you looking at by the window? I know the ladies of Leipzig are indeed more charming than the peasant women of Gottingen, but how can beauty compete with the allure of fine wine?”

Arthur didn’t turn to look at him, just raised his hand and gestured for Bismarck to come a little closer, “Otto, I know your age is full of energy, but besides women, can’t your head think of something else?”

Hearing this, Bismarck couldn’t help but complain inwardly, “Look! Damn it, just look! That speech, as if he were the patron saint of all England! What’s with ‘men your age’? You don’t seem to be much older than me, do you? Who do you think you are? A cardinal of the Vatican?”

But through it all, Bismarck remained quite compliant and moved closer to Arthur’s side.

Arthur glanced at the sweaty and insincere young man, raised his hand, and pointed to a tall guest who had just entered downstairs, “Look, that person is a Russian secret policeman.”

“Secret police?” Bismarck’s heart skipped a beat.

Of course, he wasn’t worried about Herzen and the others, but because he hadn’t forgotten that his trip to Leipzig involved some illegal activities, like the Young Italy affair.

“How did you tell?” Bismarck suddenly remembered that this rascal had once worked as a policeman, “I almost forgot, you seem to be Britain’s best detective. You probably saw something wrong from his attire, behavior, habits, or expression.”

To his surprise, Arthur just shook his head disdainfully, “Otto, your perceptiveness is really bad. If you only have this level, you won’t do well in the Gestapo.”

“Sorry,” Bismarck was so nervous from the criticism that he scratched his ears, “but can you give me a hint?”

“I know him.”

“I know you know, you have that kind of ability, but I’ve been in this business for not long, could you give me a more specific hint? Like where you know him from.”

“Where?” Arthur gave Bismarck a look, “I met him at the Russian Embassy in the UK, of course. Colonel Shubinski and I are old acquaintances; we had drinks a few times in London. It was he who told me that the Third Bureau of the Imperial Office is actually the secret police.”