“Your promise!” she exclaimed.
He smiled down at her. “The promise holds, child, as you well know; but this affair of the Book may work an opportunity.”
“If it does, take it,” said she instantly.
“Trust me, my lady,” he answered, as he left her at the small door used only by the Princess and her privileged intimates.
“Your lady?” she echoed across the sill—her natural witchery increased four-fold, in his eyes, by the tumbled hair—“your lady—perhaps.”
In the hallway, just at her own room, she met the Princess, who, woman-like, marked at a glance every detail of her disordered attire.
“Good heaven, Elise,” she exclaimed, “what has that Adjutant of mine been doing to you?”
“Practicing sword tricks on my skirt,” said she, holding it up to show the rents, “and learning to be un coiffeur.”
“He seems to be as uncommonly proficient in the one as he is deficient in the other,”—then looked at her questioningly; “but seriously, Elise, what happened?—if you care to tell me.”
“The Duke of Lotzen found me alone in the japonica walk.”