SOPHY OF KRAVONIA
Majesty. The King sat a moment with a frown on his brow—the frown which just supplants a smile when a thing, generally amusing and not unnatural, happens by chance to occur inconveniently.
Across this silence came a loud voice from the next room—Lepage's voice. "Take care, take care! You'll upset the flowers, Prince!"
The King started; he looked round at his companions. Then he struck a hand-bell on the table before him. Lepage appeared.
"Lepage, whom did you address as 'Prince' just now?"
"Count Alexis, sir."
"Why?"
"The Count insisted."
"Don't do it again. It's absurd! Go away!"
A dull red patched Countess Ellenburg's cheeks. Lids brooded low over the eyes of Stafnitz and of Stenovics. It was a very awkward little scene—the King's irritation had got the better of him for the moment. What would the kindred of the exalted Princess have said? The King turned to Countess Ellenburg and forced a smile.
"The question of reproof is one for you, Countess," he said, frigidly. "And now about the Baroness—No, I mean, I wanted to ask if my wishes have been communicated to the Prince of Slavna."
"The Prince has received them, sir. He read them in the presence of my messenger, and requested leave to send his answer in writing, unless he might wait on Your Majesty."
"There are reasons why I had better not see him just now. Ask him to write—but very soon. The matter isn't one for delay." The King rose from his seat.
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