“I am.” Nikky’s voice was fervent.
“Where did you go when you went away?”
“I took a short and foolish excursion, Highness. You see, while I look grown-up I dare say I am really not. Not quite, anyhow. And now and then, like other small boys I have heard of, I—well, I run away. And am sorry afterward, of course.”
Miss Braithwaite was not in the study. The Prince looked about, and drew close—to Nikky. “Did you, really?”
“I did. Some day, when you are older, I’ll tell you about it. I—has the Princess Hedwig been having tea with you, as usual?”
Carelessly spoken as it was, there was a change in Nikky’s voice. And the Crown Prince was sensitive to voices. Something similar happened to Monsieur Puaux, the French tutor, when he mentioned Hedwig.
“Not yesterday. We went to the fortress. Nikky, what is it to be in love?”
Nikky looked startled, “Well,” he said reflectively, “it’s to like some one, a lady in your case or mine, of course; to—to like them very much, and want to see them often.”
“Is that all?”
“It’s enough, sometimes. But it’s more than that. It’s being dreadfully unhappy if the other person isn’t around, for one thing. It isn’t really a rational condition. People in love do mad things quite often.”