The bolt of Destiny was shot from the blue of dreams next morning, when Rudolph was banqueting blissfully with his uncle and aunt at the midday breakfast.
“Rudolph,” said the enemy, in amiable baronial form, “your aunt and I have arranged a charming surprise for you.”
Rudolph looked up quietly, without a smart of premonition, and smiled his pleasantest.
“That is kind, uncle. And the surprise?”
“Well, seeing how bored you are here—and, really, my dear boy, I am not astonished—we are going to take you on an exciting voyage through the Peloponnesus. We will show you all the historic spots.”
“But, my dear uncle, I have no desire whatever to see the Peloponnesus or any historic spots,” exclaimed Rudolph, paling before the vision of himself wandering away from Andromache. “I hate history, and don’t care a straw for the ancient Greeks.”
“Oh, Rudolph, don’t show me that I’ve built my hopes on you in vain,” exclaimed the baroness, in cheerful dismay. “I have been counting on you to explain everything to me. Your acquaintance with school books is so much more recent than mine, and the baron is even more hazy in his recollections than I.”
“I am very sorry to disappoint you, aunt, but I cannot leave Athens at present. I am not bored, uncle, I assure you. I am very happy, and I love Athens.”
The baron looked at him sharply, and thought he wore much too happy an air.
“Rudolph, I entreat you—if I were not so massive, I would kneel to you,” cried the baron, in mock prayer, “allow us to drag you away for one solitary fortnight from the enchantress, Mademoiselle Photini Natzelhuber. I admit that our society and the sight of historic spots will prove an inadequate substitute for her charms and fascinations, but humour this whim of two old people, and your return to the feet of the yellow-eyed witch of Academy Street will be the more delightful.”