"I have said all this to her, but she is obdurate."
"Does she expect some fairy prince? She is not a child; she is not even—forgive me—beautiful."
"True. She is not even pretty, but even homely women, your highness, will sometimes think of love. It is a weakness of the sex."
He was not satirical; he was very earnest indeed. He continued: "I have tried every persuasion. She only says in reply: 'He is too old. I cannot love him.'"
An inspiration came to Alexander of Pornia. Under the stress of it he rose and so far forgot himself as to clap a hand upon the shoulder of Herzvina. In so doing he had to reach up almost as high as his head, for the princes of Pornia have been small men, time out of mind.
"Baron," he said, "will you let me try my hand at persuasion?"
"It would be an honor, sire. My family is ever at the disposal of my prince."
He answered with a touch of emotion: "I know it, Rudolph; but will you trust the girl in my hands for a number of days? A thought has come to me. I know I can convince her that this love of which she dreams is a thing of the flesh alone, a physical necessity. Come, send her to me, and I shall tear away her illusions. She will not thank me for it, but she will marry the crown prince."
"I will send her to the palace to-day."
"Very good; and first tell her why I wish to speak with her. It may be that of herself she will change her mind when she learns the wishes of her prince. Farewell."