“Not cousin Sigismund himself? Oh, Nym!” She was white and trembling, and her hands gripped his arm convulsively. “Can’t we escape?”
“Where to? Why, Nell, what is there to be afraid of? He can’t eat you.”
“But if he should want to send you away? He shan’t, he shan’t! If he does, I will go too. You won’t give me up, Nym?”
“You silly child! I shan’t be asked. They’ll want you to give me up.”
“Then we are quite safe, for I won’t.”
“He’s looking this way; he’s seen you, Nell. Wave your hand and don’t be frightened. We’ve done nothing to be ashamed of.”
“Of course not. I’m not ashamed. Oh, Nym, he is telling the rest to ride on. He is dismounting and coming up here. What shall we do? Let us go down—quick!”
“Remember that you’ll have to ask if you may present me,” said Usk hurriedly as he followed her down the outside stair. At the foot he waited, expecting Helene to go forward alone to greet the soldierly man in hunting costume and Tyrolese hat who had just mounted the knoll on which the summer-house stood, but she caught his arm and dragged him forward with her.
“Oh, cousin Sigismund, please—this is Usk!”
A more informal presentation there could not have been, and the Emperor, finding his hand forced, looked almost embarrassed and decidedly annoyed. He acknowledged Usk’s presence coldly, greeted Helene with paternal kindness, and sat down on the piazza of the summer-house, motioning her to a seat beside him; but she preferred to stand, still gripping Usk’s arm as though to hold him fast.