“Roger!”
He started, and at once advanced to meet the approaching intruder, his sister, Teresa de Launay, a pretty brunette, with dark sparkling eyes, one of the favourite ladies of honour in attendance on the Queen.
“What were you dreaming about?” she asked, as he came near, “And what is the Prince doing with old Von Glauben?”
“Two questions at once, Teresa!” he said, stooping his tall head to kiss her; “I cannot possibly answer both in a breath! But answer me just one—What are you here for?”
“To summon you!” she answered. “The Queen desires you to wait upon her immediately.”
She fixed her bright eyes upon him as she spoke, and an involuntary sigh escaped her, as she noted the touch of pallor that came on his face at her words.
“Where is her Majesty?” he asked.
“Here—close at hand—in the arbour. She spied you at a distance through the trees, and sent me to fetch you.”
“You had best return to her at once, and say that I am coming.”
His sister looked at him again, and hesitated—he gave a slight, vexed gesture of impatience, whereupon she hurried away, with flying footsteps as light as those of a fabled sylph of the woodlands. He watched her go, and for a moment an expression came into his eyes of intense suffering—the look of a noble dog who is suddenly struck undeservedly by an unkind master.