"It was because I did not see your card. I shall never be indisposed to my friends—the old ones. However, they will be crowding in here shortly. Will you come and see me at four to-morrow afternoon?"
"Is it important?" I was thinking of the duel when I said this.
"Very—to you. You have a strange funereal expression for a man who is about to wed the woman he loves."
"Your sister has left town?" not knowing what else to say.
"Only for a few days; at least so she told me. Have you seen her?"
"No, I have not. A Princess!" dropping into a lighter tone. "You carry your honors well. It was to be expected of you. I might have made you a Queen, but that would not have changed you any."
"Thank you. Do you know, a title is a most wonderful drawing apparatus? Since Thursday it has been a continued performance of presentations. And I care absolutely nothing for it all. Indeed, it rests heavily upon me. I am no longer free. Ah, Jack, and to think that I must blame you! I have been longing all the evening for the little garden at home. Yes, it will always be home to me. I am almost an alien. I would rather sell lemonade to poor reporters who had only twenty-five-cent pieces in their pockets than queen it over a people that do not interest me and with whom I have nothing in common." She smiled, rather sadly, I thought, at the remembrance of that garden scene so long ago.
"Time has a cruel way of moving us around," said I, snapping the clasps on my gloves, and pulling the fingers and looking everywhere but at her. I was wondering if I should ever see her again. "When is the coronation to take place?"
"In June. The King does not wish to hurry me. You see, I must learn to be a Princess first. It was kind of him. And you will be at Hohenphalia to witness the event?"
"If nothing happens. We live in a continual uncertainty."