Smiling cordially, the margravine spoke, Miss Sibley translated:
'Her Royal Highness asks you if you have seen your father?'
I shook my head.
The Princess Ottilia translated, 'Her Highness, my good aunt, would know, would you know him, did you see him?'
'Yes, anywhere,' I cried.
The margravine pushed me back with a gesture.
'Yes, your Highness, on my honour; anywhere on earth!'
She declined to hear the translation.
Her insulting disbelief in my ability to recognize the father I had come so far to embrace would have vexed me but for the wretched thought that I was losing him again. We threaded the carriages; gazed at the horsemen in a way to pierce the hair on their faces. The little princess came on us hurriedly.
'Here, see, are the horses. I will you to mount. Are they not pretty animals?' She whispered, 'I believe your fater have been hurt in his mind by something. It is only perhaps. Now mount, for de Markgrafin says you are our good guests.'