'And if I accept, it will not make you unhappy?'
'My love, no, a thousand times, no; your choice is always mine.'
He stooped and kissed her hand.
'You are ever the same,' he murmured. 'The noblest, the most generous——'
She smiled bravely. 'I am quite sure you have decided already. Go to my table yonder, and write a graceful acceptance to my cousin Kunst. You will be happier when it is posted.'
'No, I will think a little. It is not a thing to be done in haste. It will be irrevocable.'
'Irrevocable? A diplomatic mission? You can throw it up when you please. You are not bound to serve longer than you choose.'
He was silent: what he had thought himself had been of the irrevocable insult he would be held to have offered to the emperor, the nation, and the world, if ever they knew.
'It will not be liked if I accept for a mere caprice. One must never treat a State as Bela treats his playthings,' he said as he rang, and when the servant answered the summons ordered them to saddle his horse.
'No; there is no haste. Glearemberg is not definitely recalled, I think.'