"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 he like?" disengaging his hand and turning her face toward the
window.

"That no one seems to know. He has been to his capital but twice in ten
years, which doubtless pleased his uncle, who loves power for its own
sake. The young king has been in Paris most of the time. That's the way
they educate kings these days. They teach them all the vices and make
virtue an accident. Your father loves you, and if you are inclined
toward his majesty, if it is in your heart to become a queen, I shall
not let my prejudices stand in the way."

She caught up his hand with a strange passion and kissed it.