“Arcadian peasants, surely?” said Cyril, with an involuntary glance at Prince Franz’s hat. “And is the Princess Helene sorry to leave the upland meadows and the flowers, and come back to reality?”
“Oh no; we are bringing the flowers with us, you see,” answered Princess Resi for her.
“Which things are an allegory,” said Cyril; but what he meant he did not explain just then. He spent the evening at the Schloss with Queen Ernestine and Usk, watching all that went on without seeming to do so, and gaining a much clearer idea of the state of affairs than his nephew gave him credit for possessing. When they returned to Luisenruh, and the Queen had gone indoors, he suggested to Usk that they should smoke in the garden, and Usk could not think of any sufficient reason for declining.
“Well?” said Cyril at last, when Usk had exhausted himself in the endeavour to confine the conversation to general subjects. “Any news, Usk? Have you settled anything?”
Usk’s first impulse was to feign ignorance, but he knew it would be no use. “With Princess Helene, do you mean?” he asked. “No; I haven’t settled anything, because there’s nothing to settle. You were all mistaken. She only cares for me just as she does for her brother.”
“This is really very strange,” said Cyril gravely. “I should have thought the girl’s own mother ought to know the state of her feelings, but of course the girl herself must know it better. Do you say she told you this plainly? In that case, surely you would have found it better to leave at once? You have your father’s dignity to think of as well as your own, you know.”
“I’m afraid she might make herself ill again if I wasn’t here to look after her,” explained Usk anxiously; and Cyril was seized with a violent fit of coughing, due, he remarked, to something wrong with his cigar. “But she didn’t tell me all this,” Usk added, with some reluctance. “I saw it for myself.”
“You mean you have never proposed to her yet? But you must, you know. It will be merely a formality, of course, since you are aware what the answer will be, and you can go away immediately afterwards.”
“But,” objected Usk, “she might be afraid—of giving me pain——”
“I’m afraid I don’t quite follow you. Oh, you mean she might accept you for fear of hurting your feelings by refusing? That would put you in a very awkward position, certainly. Your feelings have not changed, I suppose?”