"Why," she said, "you are becoming as great a flatterer as the rest of them. But confess now, you did not call to tell me that?"
The free baron looked from her through the folding doors into a retiring apartment, set with arabesque designs, and adorned with inlaid tables bearing statues of alabaster and enamel. Purposely he waited before he replied, and was gratified to see how curiously she regarded him when again his glance returned to her.
"No, Madam," he answered, taking credit to himself for his diplomacy, "it is not necessary that truth should be premeditated. I had a serious purpose in seeking you. Of all the court you alone can assist me; it is to you, only, I can look for aid. Knowing you generous, I have ventured to come."
"What a serious preamble," smiled the lady. "How grave must be the matter behind it!"
"The service I ask must be from the king," he went on, with seeming embarrassment.
"Then why not go to his Majesty?" she interrupted, with the suggestion of a frown.
"Because I should fail," he retorted, frankly. "The case is one wherein a messenger—like yourself—a friend—may I so call you?—would win, while I, a rough soldier, should but make myself ridiculous, the laughing stock of the court."
"You interest me," she laughed. "It must be a pressing emergency when you honor me—so early in the day."
"It is, Madam," he replied. "Very pressing to me. I want the wedding day changed."
"Changed!" she exclaimed, staring at him. "Deferred?"