“It was the King, then! I told mother so the moment I saw his picture. Oh, sir, forgive me!”
“Faith, you gave me nothing that hurt much,” said I.
“But the things we said!”
“I forgive them for the thing you did.”
“I must go and tell mother.”
“Stop,” said I, assuming a graver air. “We are not here for sport tonight. Go and bring dinner, and not a word of the King being here.”
She came back in a few minutes, looking grave, yet very curious.
“Well, how is Johann?” I asked, beginning my dinner.
“Oh, that fellow, sir—my lord King, I mean!”
“‘Sir’ will do, please. How is he?”