Part 5 (2/2)
”Henry the Great was not at all bad looking,” she said.
He smiled back at her. ”But with a beastly bad temper, at times, I'm told.”
”I'm not afraid-I mean his wife wasn't afraid; tradition is, she managed him very skilfully.”
”Doubtless,” he agreed; ”any clever woman can manage a man if she take the trouble to try.”
”And shall I try, Armand?”
”Try!” he chuckled; ”you couldn't help trying; man taming is your natural avocation. By all means, manage me-only, don't let me know it.”
”I'll not,” she laughed-”the King never--” and she straightened sharply.
”I forgot, dear, I forgot!” And she got up suddenly, and went over to the window. Nor did he follow her; but waited silently, knowing well it was no time for him even to intrude.
After a while she came slowly back to him, a wistfully sad look in her eyes. And as he met her she gave him both her hands.
”I shall never be anything but a thoughtless child, Armand,” she said, with a wan, little smile. ”So be kind to me, dear-and don't forget.”
He drew her arms about his neck. ”Let us always be children to each other,” he answered, ”forgetting, when together, everything but the joy of living, the pleasures of to-day, the antic.i.p.ations of to-morrow.”
She shook her head. ”A woman is always a child in love,” she said; ”it's the man who grows into maturity, and sobers with age.”
He knew quite well she was right, and for the moment he had no words to answer; and she understood and helped him.
”But this is no time for either of us to be children,” she went on; ”there is work to do and plans to be arranged.” She drew a chair close to the table and, resting both arms upon it, looked up at the Archduke expectantly. ”What is first?”
He hesitated.
”Come, dear,” she said; ”Frederick was my father and my dearest friend, but there remains for him now only the last sad offices the living do the dead; we will do them; but we will also do what he has decreed. We will seat you in his place, and confound Lotzen and his satellites.”
He took her hand and gravely raised it to his lips.
”You are a rare woman, Dehra,” he said, ”a rare woman. No man can reach your level, nor understand the beauty of your faith, the meaning of your love. Yet, at least, will I try to do you honor and to give you truth.”
She drew him down and kissed him lightly on the cheek.
”You do not know the Dalberg women, dear,” she said-”to them the King is next to G.o.d-and the line that separates is very narrow.”
”But I'm not yet the King,” he protested.
”You've been king, in fact, since the moment-Frederick died. With us, the tenet still obtains in all its ancient strength; the throne is never vacant.”
”So it's Lotzen or I, and to-morrow the Book will decide.”
”Yes,” she agreed; ”to-morrow the Book will decide for the Nation; but we know it will be you.”
”Not exactly,” he smiled; ”we think we know; we can't be sure until we see the decree.”
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