“I crave your Highness’s pardon if I have chosen an improper hour to seek an audience,” replied Balthasar with another bow.
“It is not the hour that I am thinking of,” answered the prince quickly. “Would that were all! See, here is your letter; I was just now reading it, and regretting that, instead of writing to me only three days ago, when you were half-way here, you had not done so two or three weeks before starting.”
“I did wrong.”
“More so than you think; for, had you sooner warned me, I would have spared you a useless journey.”
“Useless!” exclaimed Balthasar aghast. “Has your Highness changed your mind?”
“Not at all; I am still passionately fond of the drama, and should be delighted to have a French theatre here. As far as that goes, my ideas and tastes are in no way altered since last summer; but, unfortunately, I am unable to satisfy them. Look here,” continued the prince, rising from his arm-chair. He took Balthasar’s arm and led him to a window: “I told you, last year, that I was building a magnificent theatre in my capital.”
“Your Highness did tell me so.”
“Well, look yonder, on the other side of the square; there the theatre is!”
“Your Highness, I see nothing but an open space; a building commenced, and as yet scarcely risen above the foundation.”