“We need not under ordinary circumstances, I agree with you. But there are reasons in the present case which render it advisable——”
“It is absurd, Cyril. I won’t hear of it. Michael is far too young. He doesn’t know his own mind. He——”
“My dear Ernestine, please hear me out. Nothing could be further from my mind than to suggest an immediate marriage for him, or even a definite betrothal. But it is highly desirable that it should be generally understood that his choice—or our choice for him, if you like—is fixed.”
“Oh, that is not so bad, of course,” said Ernestine, trying to speak calmly. “But,” her tone thrilled with anxiety, “upon whom does your choice fall?”
“On the only possible person, Princess Frederike of Hercynia, your cousin, the Emperor’s daughter.”
“You know that I detest Sigismund, and don’t care for his wife. Nothing shall induce me to allow Michael to marry one of their girls.”
“The feeling seems to be mutual,” thought Cyril, remembering his midnight meeting with the Emperors. “You must not allow your little differences with your cousin to prejudice you against his children,” he added aloud. “I made it my business when at Molzau to observe and find out all I could about the Hercynian Princesses, and I am convinced that they are most excellent and amiable young people, and very well brought up.”
“Well brought up!” said Ernestine scornfully. “They are dull, Cyril—fearfully dull. Michael cannot endure them.”
“That speaks badly for his taste. But as you said just now, he is only a boy, and doesn’t know his own mind. All we have to do is to bring him in contact with Princess Frederike in due time, and propinquity will do the rest.”
“I wish you would not talk like that. I tell you it is impossible. Michael must be allowed to choose for himself.”