“Oh, it was quite true!” sighed the Princess Baba.
“I can’t agree with you,” said the Princess Baba. “I adore him. I adore him. I adore him. And, oh, I am so very unhappy!”
He rose and knelt and said: “Princess, mayn’t I be of some use? Can’t I help you? Please command me, for I would die for you.”
“At this very moment,” she sobbed, “he is very probably either dead or dying, for how can he hope to survive a duel with the best swordsman of Valeria, Captain Count Rupprecht Saxemünden von Maxe-Middengräfen?”
“It certainly does sound rather improbable,” said the youth dismally.
“And when it is all over and my lover lies dead—ah, how can I even say it!—my betrothal to his murderer will be formally announced.”
“What, you are actually to marry a man with a name like that!”
“Yes, isn’t it dreadful!” sobbed the Princess Baba, whereupon the young gentleman rose and stood before her with respectful determination, saying that he for one could not bear the idea of her marrying Captain Count Rupprecht God-knöws-what von Whät-not, and would therefore do all in his power to preserve life in the person of Lord Quorn, since the same was so delightful to her.
“For even at the risk of your grave displeasure,” said our hero, “I must tell you, Princess, that I like you frightfully and shall never again know delight but in your presence.”