At a little distance from them Barney saw Emma von der Tann surrounded by a group of officials and palace officers. Since he had come to Lustadt that day he had had no word with her, and now he crossed toward her, amused as the throng parted to form an aisle for him, the men saluting and the women curtsying low.
He took both of the girl’s hands in his, and, drawing one through his arm, took advantage of the prerogatives of kingship to lead her away from the throng of courtiers.
“I thought that I should never be done with all the tiresome business which seems to devolve upon kings,” he said, laughing. “All the while that I should have been bending my royal intellect to matters of state, I was wondering just how a king might find a way to see the woman he loves without interruptions from the horde that dogs his footsteps.”
“You seem to have found a way, Leopold,” she whispered, pressing his arm close to her. “Kings usually do.”
“It is not because I am a king that I found a way, Emma,” he replied. “It is because I am an American.”
She looked up at him with an expression of pleading in her eyes.
“Why do you persist?” she cried. “You have come into your own, and there is no longer aught to fear from Peter or any other. To me at least, it is most unkind still to deny your identity.”
“I wonder,” said Barney, “if your love could withstand the knowledge that I am not the king.”
“It is the MAN I love, Leopold,” the girl replied.
“You think so now,” he said, “but wait until the test comes, and when it does, remember that I have always done my best to undeceive you. I know that you are not for such as I, my princess, and when I have returned your true king to you all that I shall ask is that you be happy with him.”