"His Majesty, most certainly, will not," he said.
"But His Majesty's daughter will—with his permission."
Frederick laughed. "Or, without it, if need be," he said. "She is a very headstrong young woman, Armand," he observed to me.
"So His Highness has already done himself the honor to tell me," said she airily.
"Good!" said the King. "I admire his pluck."
Dehra blew a cloud of smoke at me.
"So do I," she answered.
Then she went over and kissed the King.
"Be nice to Armand," she whispered (but loud enough, for me to hear) and left the room, flinging me a farewell from her finger tips, as I held back the portière.
And Frederick continued to smile, and my courage grew proportionately. I came straight to the point.