“Ah, Princess,” Ludovic said, “how desperately I have longed, and how gloriously I have been rewarded.”
“I ought not to have come,” she replied. “It is a great risk, especially for you. Baron Rollmar is suspicious, impertinently suspicious.”
Behind her quiet tone there was the vibration of restrained indignation, of a sharp resentment. He joyed to realise that she talked quite freely to him now; the impulsive act of their last meeting had swept away the barrier of reserve which had stood between them.
“The worthy Chancellor,” he said, “has plans for your future.”
“In which I am not consulted.”
“Is that the reason you resent them?”
“Could I have a better? So even you have heard of Rollmar’s plans?”
“Even I, Princess. Vaguely. You are to marry Prince Ludwig of Drax-Beroldstein.”
“According to the Chancellor’s predetermination.”
“And you are not inclined to fall in with his views?”