"And I intend to remain young, my dear Count. Loveless marriages make old men and women of youths and maidens. I remember thinking that remark out for myself after a great deal of effort, and you may remember that I sprung it with considerable effect on the cabinet when the matter was formally discussed a year or two ago. You heard about it, didn't you, Dank?"
"I did, highness."
"And every newspaper in the world printed it as coming from me, didn't they? Well, there you are. I can't go behind my publicly avowed principles."
The young fellow stretched his long body in a sort of luxurious defiance, and eyed his companions somewhat combatively.
"Sounds very well," growled the Count, with scant reverence for royalty, being a privileged person.
"Now, Dank here can marry any one he likes—if she'll have him—and he is only a lieutenant of the guard. Why should I,—prince royal and master of all he surveys, so to speak,—why should I be denied a privilege enjoyed by every good-looking soldier who carries a sword in my army—my army, do you understand? I leave it to you, Dank, is it fair? Who are you that you should presume to think of a happy marriage while I, your Prince, am obliged to twiddle my thumbs and say 'all right, bring any old thing along and I'll marry her'? Who are you, Dank, that's what I'd like to know."
His humour was so high-handed that the two soldiers laughed and Dank ruefully admitted that he was a lucky dog.
"You shall not marry into the Blithers family, my lad, if we can help it," said the Count, pulling at his moustaches.
"I should say not!" said Dank, feeling for his.
"I should as soon marry a daughter of Hobbs," said R. Schmidt, getting up from his chair with restored sprightliness. "If he had one, I mean."