If only he might find
her as the grim old chancellor had found her, in a garret! What?
"Why did you do that?" she asked quickly.
"I do not understand."
"You shrugged."
"I beg your highness' pardon!" flushing. "I was not conscious of such
rudeness."
"That is not answering my question."
"I beg of your highness--"
"My highness commands!" But her voice was gentle.
"It was a momentary dream I had; and the thought of its utter
impossibility caused me to shrug. I assure your highness that it was a
philosophical shrug, such as the Stoics were wont to indulge in." He
spoke lightly. Only his eyes were serious.
"And this dream; was there not a woman in it?"
"Oh, no; there was only an angel."
She knew that it was not proper to question him in this manner; but
neither her heart nor her mind were formal to-night.
"You interest me; you always interest me. You have seen so many
wonderful things. And now it is angels."
"Only one, your Highness." This was daring. "But perhaps I am putting
my foot where angels fear to tread," which was still more daring.
"Angels ought not to be afraid of anything." She laughed; there was a
pain and a joy in the sound of it. She read his heart as one might read
a written line.
"Dreams are always unfinished things," he said, getting back on safer
ground.
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