"I declare," said the Duchess Joan impetuously, "you should have no refusal from me. You are the only man I have ever met who can speak of love and yet be tolerable. It is a pity that my father left me the evil heritage that I must wed the Prince of Courtland or lose my dominions!"
At the sound of the name of her predestined husband a sudden flashing thought seemed to wake in the girl's breast.
"My lord," she said, "is it true that you go to Courtland after leaving our poor eagle's nest up here on the cliffs of the Kernsberg?"
Von Dessauer bowed, smiling at her. He was not too old to love beauty and frankness in women. "It is true that I have a mission from my Prince and Princess to the Prince of Courtland and Wilna. But——"
Joan of the Sword clasped her hands and drew a long breath.
"I would not ask it of any man in the world but yourself," she said, "but will you let me go with you?"
"My dear lady," said Dessauer, with swift deprecation, "to go with the ambassador of another power to the court and palace of the man you are to marry—that were a tale indeed, salt enough even for the Princes of Ritterdom. As it is——"
The Duchess looked across at Dessauer with great haughtiness. "As it is, they talk more than enough about me already," she said. "Well—I know, and care not. I am no puling maid that waits till she is authorised by a conclave of the empire before she dares wipe her nose when she hath a cold in the head. Joan of the Sword Hand cares not what any prince may say—from yours of Plassenburg, him of the Red Axe, to the fat Margraf George."
"Oh, our Prince, he says naught, but does much," said Dessauer. "He hath been a rough blade in his time, but Karl the Miller's son mellowed him, and by now his own Princess hath fairly civilised him."
"Well," said Joan of the Sword, with determination, "then it is settled. I am coming with you to Courtland."