“I have injuries; but I do not wish to speak of them.”
“Monsieur, I stood a little while outside—I say it to my shame—listening to you. That is to confess; and will you not reciprocate my candour? Please, monsieur.”
The pretty entreaty quite disarmed him.
“I will speak the truth,” he said. “Do you ask me if I take my mission seriously? My answer to that is that his Highness the Archduke might choose a finer advocate to sound his praises, but never one more earnest or convinced.”
She looked down, drawing in the dust with the point of her little shoe.
“I have always heard of him as a very grave and virtuous prince,” she murmured.
“Believe it true, I beg you,” said Tiretta. “His ideals are the ideals of a conscientious ruler and a noble gentleman. He has wisdom beyond his years, but free of pedantry, most sweet and natural affections, a fine presence, and a will which, if strong, is neither arrogant nor obstinate.”
She did not answer for a little; and then she looked up.
“Well, you have fulfilled your part,” she said. “Was there need to make such a mystery about it?”
“There was so little, it seems,” he answered, “that your Highness has guessed it unspoken.”