“See better what he’s doing? Perhaps,” said I. “And why are you glad?”
“I didn’t say I was glad,” she answered.
“Some people say so for you.”
“There are many insolent people,” she said, with delightful haughtiness.
“Possibly you mean that I am one?”
“Your Majesty could not be,” she said, curtseying in feigned deference, but adding, mischievously, after a pause: “Unless, that is—”
“Well, unless what?”
“Unless you tell me that I mind a snap of my fingers where the Duke of Strelsau is.”
Really, I wished that I had been the King.
“You don’t care where cousin Michael—”