"I am happy to have been of service to your Grand Ducal Highness," said Malcolm correctly.
"Yes, yes, yes," interrupted the Grand Duke nervously, "but you will stay and breakfast with me? Come, I insist, Mr.—er—er——"
"Mr. Hay, father," said the girl.
The conversation throughout was carried on in English, which was not remarkable, remembering that that was the family language of the Court.
"Yes, yes, yes, Mr. Hay, you must stay to breakfast. You have been very good, very noble, I am sure. Irene, you must persuade this gentleman." He held out his hand jerkily and Malcolm took it with a bow.
Then without another word or even so much as a glance at his daughter, the Grand Duke turned and hurried back into the palace, leaving Malcolm very astonished and a little uncomfortable.
The girl saw his embarrassment.
"My father does not seem to be very hospitable," she smiled, and once more he saw that little gleam of mischief in her eyes, "but I will give you a warmer invitation."
He spread out his hands in mock dismay and looked down at his untidy clothes.
"Your Highness is very generous," he said, "but how can I come to the Grand Duke's table like this?"