"The last King—my father, I mean, whom I remember but faintly, for I was such a little boy when the trouble came—danced, I believe, in accordance with traditional custom with several of the fairest maidens of the town."
Vorza was quite reassured by this token of the Royal sanity, and bowed again.
"Now, of course, for me—all thoughts of woman's loveliness have no charm: I am tool inexperienced, alas! What a youth I have had!—I have had none, rather. But since the ceremony is old and picturesque I should like to; revive it."
"But, Sire, between me and your Majesty, you have not had time to learn to dance."
This was unexpected, but Norman rose to the occasion.
"You know little of England and modern curative establishments," he said. "The regime of the whip and straight waistcoat is over, thank God, or you would not have the pleasure of my company to-night. Three days' sojourn is not quite enough for that wonderful country, my lord."
Vorza smiled, but sinister thoughts passed through his heart.
"It must have been a marvellous place indeed, Sire, this home to which the gooch luck of Alsander sent you. But will you never tell the secret of its locality? For it would be only right, between me and your Majesty, to honour the wise director with a national tribute."
"It is not his desire," said Norman, briefly. "But with regard to this dance to-night, I want to know my people. I propose that the dance should be promiscuous, and I will join it myself."
"That is quite in accordance with the best traditions of Alsander, your Majesty," said Vorza, and he promised to make the announcement in due form.