"A boon—thou?" asked the prince, with the coldness of instinctive distrust. "Well, Sir Patrick?"
"I have taken the liberty of addressing your highness on the dearest secret of my heart," said he in a low voice, and twirling his mustachios, while he drew the prince aside, and with his stealthy eyes bestowed a covert glance on Sir James Shaw; "I crave your influence with one of your most favoured courtiers—for—for—"
"For what—do not be bashful, Sir Patrick—his purse?"
"Nay, his daughter's hand."
"I crave in turn to be excused, for I would be exceedingly loth to assist a fowler so deadly as thee in meshing a poor little dove."
"But I am one of the most faithful servants of your highness and of the king."
"Well—and you are in love?"
"Prince, I have just had the honour of saying so."
"But with whom, Sir Patrick?"
"A woman—"