He met her with a smile, that showed only sharp concern and tenderest sympathy.
“My child,” he said, taking her hand, in the most gentle deference, and holding it in both of his, “tell me what has unstrung you so completely—you who are always merry and serene.”
She gently freed her hand, and, gathering up the trailing ends of her skirt, turned toward the Palace.
“If I tell you,” she said, “promise me that you won’t make a scene nor try to punish him.”
“Him!” he exclaimed, stopping short, “him! God in Heaven, was it that devil, Lotzen?”—he seized her arm—“where is he—where is he?”
She smiled at him very sweetly, loving the anger that blazed his face.
“I’ll tell you nothing,” she answered, “so long as you are in that humor—your promise first.”
“No—no—I promised and forbore the other day; but now, with that”—sweeping his hand at gown and hair—“I’ll forbear no longer.”
She moved on.
“Come, Elise, who was it?”