“Captain von Rollmar, are you mad?” she cried.
“Not at all,” he returned resolutely.
“Putting aside the absurdity of these pretensions of yours,” she said, content to argue and so gain time, while expecting every moment would bring Minna to her rescue, “you forget that, by your father’s policy, my hand is already bestowed.”
“I think, Princess,” he retorted, “that since you forget it, I may be pardoned for ignoring it.”
The reply was natural and obvious enough, but from the speaker it was more, it was intolerable.
“At least,” she rejoined haughtily, “if I turn aside from the way Baron von Rollmar has marked out for me I may at least be permitted to take which path I choose.”
“You have scarcely chosen wisely,” he said with a curious softening of his aggressive manner. “The path you are treading leads to danger. Let me conduct you to a safe one leading to happiness, Princess,” he continued earnestly, and his face lighted by the glow of his ardour came as near to beauty as such a face could, “there is only one man on earth in whose favour my father would renounce his cherished scheme. Any other who aspires to you simply courts his own destruction. You have to choose between Prince Ludwig, who treats you as I know you of all women hate to be treated, with neglect and worse, you must choose between him and me, who love you to adoration.”
“Must I?”
He searched her eyes for the effect of his pleading, since her tone gave no clue, but these were equally cold.
“There is no other alternative,” he protested, taking her exclamation as a simple question and ignoring its possible note of defiance.