“Except yourself?”
“I pray for myself. I could not order.”
As I spoke, there came a cheer from the street. The princess ran to the window.
“It is he!” she cried. “It is—the Duke of Strelsau!”
I smiled, but said nothing. She returned to her seat. For a few moments we sat in silence. The noise outside subsided, but I heard the tread of feet in the ante-room. I began to talk on general subjects. This went on for some minutes. I wondered what had become of Michael, but it did not seem to be for me to interfere. All at once, to my great surprise, Flavia, clasping her hands asked in an agitated voice:
“Are you wise to make him angry?”
“What? Who? How am I making him angry?”
“Why, by keeping him waiting.”
“My dear cousin, I don’t want to keep him—”
“Well, then, is he to come in?”