"Of course," said the Grand Duke, "to see the sunrise,—but with a portmanteau!"
The Baroness was silent.
"With a portmanteau," entreated the Grand Duke. "I am a connoisseur of portmanteaux. Say that I may see yours, Amalia."
The Baroness was silent.
"Say yes, Amalia. For to the student of etymology the very word portmanteau—"
The Baroness bent toward him and said:
"I am sorry to inform your Highness that there is some one at the door of the summer-house."
II
Inasmuch as all Noumaria knew that its little Grand Duke, once closeted with the lady whom he delighted to honor, did not love intrusions, and inasmuch as a discreet Court had learned, long ago, to regard the summer-house as consecrate to his Highness and the Baroness von Altenburg,—for these reasons the Grand Duke was inclined to resent disturbance of his privacy when he first peered out into the gardens.
His countenance was less severe when he turned again toward the Baroness, and it smacked more of bewilderment.