The minister had evidently made up his mind. “Krell has a dark history,” he agreed casually, “which renders it not the liveliest abode in the world, for which reason, your Highness, it seems exactly the place to bring a wayward young lady to her senses. Moreover, its natural situation renders it an ideal retreat from undesirable Philanders. May I take it that your Highness will give the necessary orders for the Princess’s journey to-morrow?”
His Highness seemed, notwithstanding his wise old counsellor’s persistence, to have a flat refusal on his lips. However, he checked it, and, rising, took a turn across the room in considerable discomposure. Rollmar stood watching him from beneath his knit brows with a smile of mingled confidence and contempt. The Duke came back. “I cannot consent to this,” he declared with a prodigious effort to be and, what was more to the point, to seem resolute; “at least not at this moment. So severe, so drastic a measure must not be taken in a hurry.”
“It is,” replied the Chancellor with calm sententiousness, “almost invariably, without loss of time that drastic measures have to be taken. The need of such argues urgency.”
“That may be,” the Duke returned loftily. “But this is a matter wherein my daughter’s welfare and happiness are concerned.”
“Wherein the welfare and glory of your duchy are involved.”
“I am not so sure,” said the Duke, abandoning direct argument, “that it is, after all, so great a matter.”
“But I am,” the minister retorted. “You must pardon me, Highness, if I insist that this alliance is of the very highest consequences. An importance not to be weighed for an instant against the young lady’s few days of discontent or even discomfort.”
He had changed his tone now and spoke with almost peremptory insistence. The man’s strong will and character came out and seemed to beat down in a moment the feeble faculties arrayed against them.
“I repeat,” said the Duke, visibly weakening, “there is no such great hurry.”
“I regret to take an entirely opposite view to your Highness.”