“I’ll not,” she laughed—“the King never——” and she straightened sharply. “I forgot, dear, I forgot!” And she got up suddenly, and went over to the window. Nor did he follow her; but waited silently, knowing well it was no time for him even to intrude.
After a while she came slowly back to him, a wistfully sad look in her eyes. And as he met her she gave him both her hands.
“I shall never be anything but a thoughtless child, Armand,” she said, with a wan, little smile. “So be kind to me, dear—and don’t forget.”
He drew her arms about his neck. “Let us always be children to each other,” he answered, “forgetting, when together, everything but the joy of living, the pleasures of to-day, the anticipations of to-morrow.”
She shook her head. “A woman is always a child in love,” she said; “it’s the man who grows into maturity, and sobers with age.”
He knew quite well she was right, and for the moment he had no words to answer; and she understood and helped him.
“But this is no time for either of us to be children,” she went on; “there is work to do and plans to be arranged.” She drew a chair close to the table and, resting both arms upon it, looked up at the Archduke expectantly. “What is first?”
He hesitated.
“Come, dear,” she said; “Frederick was my father and my dearest friend, but there remains for him now only the last sad offices the living do the dead; we will do them; but we will also do what he has decreed. We will seat you in his place, and confound Lotzen and his satellites.”
He took her hand and gravely raised it to his lips.