"Who does not, father?" She slid her arm round his neck. She was full of affection for this kindly parent.
"But there are those of us who must not accept day-dreams as realities; for then there will be heartaches and futile longings."
"You are warning me. About what, father?" There was a little stab in her heart.
"Herr Carmichael is a fine fellow, brave, witty, shrewd. If all Americans are like him, America will soon become a force in the world. I have taken a fancy to him; and you know what they say of your father—no formality with those whom he likes. Humanly, I am right; but in the virtue of everyday events in court life, I am wrong."
She moved uneasily.
He went on: "Herbeck has spoken of it, the older women speak of it; and they all say—"
"Say!" she cried hotly, leaping to her feet. "What do I care what they say? Are you not the grand duke, and am I not your daughter?"
In his turn the duke felt the stab.
"You must ride no more with Herr Carmichael. It is neither wise nor safe."
"Father!"