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“Chevalier,” “Antinoüs” interrupted, “you do not always observe the deep respect due to a parent, but I will not repel the hand you offer me in peace and amity. May these words be my guerdon! I was wondering whether you had some really serious reason for disliking to go. And here are our turrets pointing skyward over the pines, so kindly let your estimable steeds have their heads. I am as hungry as a bear. Aren’t you?”

“Very hungry,” she replied, with the enthusiasm of a sailor accepting a glass of water on a cold winter’s day. “By the way, when do you wish to leave Plenhöel?”

“As soon as you like ... or can. The first week of January I think would be a fairly good time. Of course Christmas and New-Year are better spent on our own land. In spite of what you say, I am almost as Breton in heart and soul as you are yourself, mon Chevalier—take care of that stone near the clump of reeds yonder, ‘Scylla’ seems determined to swallow it en passant.”

“Leurs Altesses Sérénissimes le Prince et la Princesse Palitzin!”