" Then she spoke to Carmichael in English.
The soldiers shrugged. To them it did not matter what language her
highness adopted so long as they obeyed the letter of the duke's
instructions. The little cavalcade directed its course toward the city.
"You have not been riding of late," she said.
Then she had missed him. Carmichael's heart expanded. To be missed is to
be regretted, and one regrets only those in whom one is interested.
"I have ridden the same as usual, your Highness; only I have taken this
road for a change."
"Ah!" She patted the glistening neck of her mare. So he had purposely
tried to avoid her? Why? She stole a sly glance at him. Why were not
kings molded in this form? All the kings she had met had something the
matter with them, crooked legs, weak eyes, bald, young, or old, and daft
over gaming-tables and opera-dancers. And the one man among them all--at
least she had been informed that the king of Jugendheit was all of a
man--had politely declined. There was some chagrin in this for her, but
no bitterness or rancor. In truth, she was more chagrined on her
father's account than on her own.
"You should have taken the south pass. It was lovely yesterday."
"Perhaps this way has been wisest."
"Are you become afraid of me?" archly.
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