She answered with a smile.
And then in a light and frivolous tone, and looking at her in a manner which she could not misunderstand, with the deepest respect he added:
“If I were a Prince and a few years younger, I would humbly kneel and worship at your shrine, Princess.”
A cloud passed over her face, but recovering, with a look which if Edestone had been younger and less sensible would have finished him:
“Well, Mr. Edestone,” she smiled coquettishly, “I understand that you were tonight a match for an Emperor; and I am feeling very old myself.”
With a smile acknowledging her condescension in allowing this slight exchange of repartee, he assumed a fatherly air, and said, having recovered himself entirely:
“Now, my dear and very sweet little Princess, your very old and most humble servant awaits your orders. The only reward that he expects is that he be allowed to see you one or two times before he dies of old age, or you are seated on a throne.”
With an impatient gesture, and an almost imperceptible stamp of her little foot, she said:
“Please don’t talk that way. I hate being a Princess, and the way you say it makes me hate myself,” and with a quick glance and a tone of great seriousness: “I don’t think you are so old as all that.
“I have sent for you,” changing her voice, “to warn you again. It was absolutely necessary in order to arrange this meeting to lead them to believe that I was willing to do that which you must hate me for—use my power as a woman to persuade you to give up the position which you have taken, and though I hate them all for it, in order to save you from certain death I have compromised myself in my own eyes, and have done that which will cause you to hate me.”