“So your guardian told me.”
They were now walking side by side in this secluded, thickly-wooded avenue, just wide enough for two, running in a straight line from wall to wall the whole length of the property, in the part most remote from the house.
“Nothing disastrous has happened to you?” she asked. “I have had miserable forebodings.”
“No; I am living a most commonplace life, quite uneventful.”
“But why, why does the Archbishop of Mayence delay the Election?”
“I did not know he was doing so.”
“Oh, my guardian is very anxious about it. Such postponement, I understand, never happened before. The State is without a head.”
“Has your guardian spoken to Mayence about it?”
“Yes; and has been met by the most icy politeness. Mayence wishes this Election to take place with a full conclave of the seven Electors, three of whom have not yet arrived. But my guardian says they never arrive, and take no interest in Imperial matters. He pointed out to Mayence that a quorum of the Court is already in Frankfort, but his Lordship of the Upper Rhine merely protests that they must not force an Election, all of which my guardian thinks is a mere hiding of some design on the part of Mayence.”
Prince Roland meditated on this for a few moments, then, as if shaking off his doubts, he said: