She came quickly up to him, and laid her thin hand on his bowed shoulder.
“Sire, what does it matter? You are young and splendid. Think what may be before you—think what you have in your hands. What is the chase compared to war? What is wine-drinking compared to the joy of victory? What the pursuit of women compared to the pursuit of nations?”
He raised his strange face that was now quite pale.
“You are right,” he said. “You are very right. I have always thought like that. Yet there seemed nothing to do. And I amused myself with games,” he added simply.
“There is now plenty to do,” said the lady, with a faint smile. “You must give your brother-in-law back his duchy—humble Denmark—subdue Poland—hold the Czar in check.”
“You think that I could do that?” he asked quickly.
“Sire, you come of a race that has done such things.”
He looked at her with an intensity almost painful.
“You are interested in me, but yet you do not care about me.”
“I do not love you, sire,” she replied quietly. “I loved once. It was enough. I loved my husband and he did not love me. For the sake of another woman he was killed soon after our marriage.”