“To come?” said she, and looked at the Archduke inquiringly.
For answer he handed her Madeline Spencer’s letter.
She glanced at the signature, smiled, and with a word of excuse, she carried it over to a window; and Armand, chatting with Lady Helen, watched her curiously as she read and re-read it; and then she looked up quickly, and gave him the glance of summons.
“Have you shown it to Mr. Courtney?” she asked. “Did he say what he thought of it?”
“He did—and at some length, and also what he thought of me.—Briefly, it was to the effect that the letter is a snare, and that I’m several kinds of a fool if I let it lure me to Lotzenia.”
The Princess tapped her crop softly against her boot, and considered.
“Of course,” said she, in momentary interruption of her thought, “I know what you think—you think you’re going,—but I don’t know——” and the tapping of the crop began afresh.... Presently a soft light came into her eyes, and she flashed him the adorable smile. “Are you willing to wait the year for our wedding, dear?” she asked.
He bent down over her, as though looking at something in the letter.
“You know I’m not, sweetheart,” he said, “that’s why I want to find the Laws—to make you Queen the sooner.”
“Your Queen?”