Sapt turned to me and said, in a sharp, decisive voice:
“You must make love to her tonight, you know.”
“I think it is very likely I shall, if I see her alone,” said I. “Hang it, Sapt, you don’t suppose I find it difficult?”
Fritz whistled a bar or two; then he said: “You’ll find it only too easy. Look here, I hate telling you this, but I must. The Countess Helga told me that the princess had become most attached to the King. Since the coronation, her feelings have undergone a marked development. It’s quite true that she is deeply wounded by the King’s apparent neglect.”
“Here’s a kettle of fish!” I groaned.
“Tut, tut!” said Sapt. “I suppose you’ve made pretty speeches to a girl before now? That’s all she wants.”
Fritz, himself a lover, understood better my distress. He laid his hand on my shoulder, but said nothing.
“I think, though,” pursued that cold-blooded old Sapt, “that you’d better make your offer tonight.”
“Good heavens!”
“Or, any rate, go near it: and I shall send a ‘semi-official’ to the papers.”