"My highness commands!" But her voice was gentle.
"It was a momentary dream I had; and the thought of its utter impossibility caused me to shrug. I assure your highness that it was a philosophical shrug, such as the Stoics were wont to indulge in." He spoke lightly. Only his eyes were serious.
"And this dream; was there not a woman in it?"
"Oh, no; there was only an angel."
She knew that it was not proper to question him in this manner; but neither her heart nor her mind were formal to-night.
"You interest me; you always interest me. You have seen so many wonderful things. And now it is angels."
"Only one, your Highness." This was daring. "But perhaps I am putting my foot where angels fear to tread," which was still more daring.
"Angels ought not to be afraid of anything." She laughed; there was a pain and a joy in the sound of it. She read his heart as one might read a written line.
"Dreams are always unfinished things," he said, getting back on safer ground.
"What is she like, this angel?" forcing him upon dangerous ground again wilfully.