"Yes," said I, adding, "he wasn't enjoying himself."

"Do be careful!" she went on. "You don't--indeed you don't--keep enough
watch on him. You know--"

"I know," said I, "that he wants what I've got."

"Yes. Hush!"

Then--and I can't justify it, for I committed the King far beyond what I
had a right to do--I suppose she carried me off my feet--I went on:

"And perhaps also something which I haven't got yet, but hope to win
some day."

This was my answer. Had I been the King, I should have thought it
encouraging:

"Haven't you enough responsibilities on you for one day, cousin?"

Bang, bang! Blare, blare! We were at the Palace. Guns were firing
and trumpets blowing. Rows of lackeys stood waiting, and, handing the
princess up the broad marble staircase, I took formal possession, as
a crowned King, of the House of my ancestors, and sat down at my own
table, with my cousin on my right hand, on her other side Black Michael,
and on my left his Eminence the Cardinal. Behind my chair stood Sapt;
and at the end of the table, I saw Fritz von Tarlenheim drain to the
bottom his glass of champagne rather sooner than he decently should.

I wondered what the King of Ruritania was doing.