Herbeck sometimes irritated him, for he was never in the
wrong, he was never impatient, he was never hasty, he never had to go
over a thing twice. This supernal insight, which overlooked all things
but results, set the duke wondering if Herbeck was truly all human. If
only he could catch him at fault once in a while!

Count von Herbeck remained at his desk, his face as inscrutable as ever,
his eyes without expression, and his lips expressing nothing. He
smoothed out a sheet of paper, affixed the state seal, and in a flowing
hand wrote a diplomatic note, considering the proposal of his royal
highness, the prince regent of Jugendheit, on behalf of his nephew, the
king. This he placed in the diplomatic pouch, called for a courier, and
despatched him at once for the frontier.

The duke sought his daughter. She was in the music-room, surrounded by
several of her young women companions, each holding some musical
instrument in her hands. Hildegarde was singing. The duke paused,
shutting his eyes and striving to recall the voice of the mother. When
the voice died away and the young women leaned back in their chairs to
rest, the duke approached. Upon seeing him all rose. With a smile he
dismissed them.

"My child," he began, taking Hildegarde's hand and drawing her toward a
window-seat, "the king of Jugendheit asks for your hand."

"Mine, father?"

"Even so."

"Then I am to marry the king of Jugendheit?" There was little joy in her
voice.

"Ah, we have not gone so far as that. The king, through his uncle, has
simply made a proposal. How would you regard it, knowing what you do of
the past, the years that you lived in comparative penury, amid
hardships, unknown, and almost without name?"

"It is for you to decide, father. Whatever your decision is, I shall
abide by it."

"It is a hard lesson we have to learn, my child. We can not always
marry where we love; diplomacy and politics make other plans. But
fortunately for you you love no one yet." He put his hand under her chin
and searched the deeps of her gray eyes. These eyes were more like her
mother's than anything else about her. "The king is young, handsome,
they say, and rich. Politically speaking, it would be a great match."

"I am in your hands. You know what is best."

The duke was poignantly disappointed. Why did she not refuse outright,
indignantly, contemptuously, as became one of the House of Ehrenstein?
Anything rather than this complacency.

"What is h