“Is it she who is ambitious?”
“Immeasurably!”
“So you are going to marry her to the king!”
“No,” said the baron, rubbing his ear thoughtfully. “I had considered that—the lady would not be difficult; but the king rebelled. He pointed out that he had married once for the good of his kingdom, and that once was all that could be demanded of any man. Besides, that would be a little too—a little too—well, not exactly in the best taste. And finally, the Ghitas have a law that never shall the head of the house marry a widow. Of course, in an affair of this importance, these fine-drawn questions of taste might be disregarded, and the king could always abrogate the law. But he is inexorable—not even to regain his throne will he marry a middle-aged American widow.”
“No doubt he fears to appear ridiculous,” suggested the countess.
“Oh, the good Pietro never cared much about appearances,” said the baron. “What he fears is to lose his freedom. I do not blame him,” he added impartially.
“Well, then,” asked the countess, “what is it you propose?”
“There is the prince,” said the baron.
“But surely you do not suppose that he will marry a middle-aged American widow!”
“Oh, no,” said the baron; “he will marry the daughter.”