‘Ah,’ thought the Emperor, ‘thou art there, my friend: pray make no hurry on my account; thou wast truly de trop on the last occasion I called on mine astronomer; I could well have spared thy presence.’
Thus the Emperor felicitated himself upon his good fortune, in being secured against a like interruption on this occasion. When arrived at his destination, which was not very soon, owing to the slowness of the journey—for the speed of the horse was not comparable with that of electric energy—the Emperor entered the Observatory with a firm resolution to make good use of the opportunity with which fortune had favoured him. Now, Mercia, with the same motive in her mind, received him very cordially, for she desired to make a favourable impression, with a view of obtaining his royal clemency in the matter of matrimony, albeit, it appeared on further reflection, but a bare possibility that she would at any time change her present condition.
‘Ah, Mistress Mercia,’ he exclaimed playfully, ‘what cheerful looks thou dost carry to-day, methinks thy face betokens much content—hast thou taken my words to heart, fair lady, ’twas truly excellent advice?’
‘Sire, thou saidst something concerning the sun—thou didst talk of coming to learn more of his condition, I believe,’ answered Mercia evasively.
‘True,’ he replied with a laugh, ‘I fain would know more of the sun’s late vagaries: but it would please me infinitely better to learn something of thyself, dost thou never feel lonely?’
‘Often enough, Sire; the hours speed away at times very quickly when I am hard at work, but when it is time to rest then the feeling of solitude overwhelms me: I get appalled at the silence that surrounds me, and a melancholy seizes me so severely that I rise unable to cope with my duties.’
‘Art thou then tired of this occupation? It is indeed, too much for thee. Rest a while, sweet Mercia, and let the stars take care of themselves for a season.’
‘Oh, that would spoil all my calculations; the work of years would be as naught were I to stay my hand now. No, I will wait until my treatise on the stars is complete; then I will take some little change for my health’s sake.’
‘Health, and Love, sweet Mercia, go hand in hand together. Let thine heart melt to its influence, and all will go well with thee. Thy melancholies will disappear; thy solitude lightened; for thou wilt have a new theory to analyse—a new and a better one.’
‘Yes, thou canst love, dear Mercia, I know it; for thine eyes were made for the conquest of man’s heart, rather than star-gazing. Cease to disregard the designs of Nature when she formed thee, and yield thyself to the pleasure of love.’