“Our pleasure is,” said he to the President, “that, albeit no woman shall be compelled to marry if so be that she be not invited thereunto; yet, if bidden, she shall in no wise refuse, but straightway espouse that man who first after the date of these presents shall solicit her hand.”
The President bowed in admiration.
“It is, if I may humbly say so, a practical and wise solution, sir,” he said.
“I apprehend that it will remedy the mischief,” said Duke Deodonato, not ill-pleased.
And doubtless it would have had an effect as altogether satisfactory, excellent, beneficial, salutary, and universal as the wisdom of Duke Deodonato had anticipated from it, had it not fallen out that, on the promulgation of the decree, all the aforesaid ladies of the Duchy, of whatsoever station, calling, age, appearance, wit, or character, straightway, and so swiftly that no man had time wherein to pay his court to them, fled to and shut and bottled and barricaded themselves in houses, castles, cupboards, cellars, stables, lofts, churches, chapels, chests, and every other kind of receptacle whatsoever, and there remained beyond reach of any man, be he whom he would, lest haply one, coming, should ask their hand in marriage, and thus they should lose all prospect of wedding the Duke.
When Duke Deodonato was apprised of this lamentable action on the part of the ladies of the Duchy, he frowned and laid down his pen.
“This is very annoying,” said he. “There appears to be a disposition to thwart Our endeavors for the public good.”
“It is gross contumacy,” said Dr. Fusbius.
“Yet,” remarked the President, “inspired by a natural, if ill-disciplined, admiration for his Highness’s person.”
“The decree is now a fortnight old,” observed Duke Deodonato. “Leave me, I will consider further of this matter.”