"Hear, hear!" Horace could not help throwing in, though in so discreet an undertone that it was inaudible.
"Far be this from me," replied Fakrash. "For he has become unto me even as a favourite son, whom I design to place upon the golden pinnacle of felicity. Therefore, I have chosen for him a wife, who is unto this damsel of thine as the full moon to the glow-worm, and as the bird of Paradise to an unfledged sparrow. And the nuptials shall be celebrated before many hours."
"Horace!" cried Sylvia, justly incensed, "why—why didn't you tell me this before?"
"Because," said the unhappy Horace, "this is the very first I've heard of it. He's always springing some fresh surprise on me," he added, in a whisper—"but they never come to anything much. And he can't marry me against my will, you know."
"No," said Sylvia, biting her lip. "I never supposed he could do that, Horace."
"I'll settle this at once," he replied. "Now, look here, Mr. Jinnee," he added, "I don't know what new scheme you have got in your head—but if you are proposing to marry me to anybody in particular——"
"Have I not informed thee that I have it in contemplation to obtain for thee the hand of a King's daughter of marvellous beauty and accomplishments?"
"You know perfectly well you never mentioned it before," said Horace, while Sylvia gave a little low cry.
"Repine not, O damsel," counselled the Jinnee, "since it is for his welfare. For, though as yet he believeth it not, when he beholds the resplendent beauty of her countenance he will swoon away with delight and forget thy very existence."
"I shall do nothing of the sort," said Horace, savagely. "Just understand that I don't intend to marry any Princess. You may prevent me—in fact, you have—from marrying this lady, but you can't force me to marry anybody else. I defy you!"