He did not take it, but instead he thrust a flagon of wine into it, as if I had asked for that--yet the thing was not done by way of a rebuff.

I saw that plainly.
"Pshaw! What does a grizzle-pate with love ?" said he, gruffly.
"Nevertheless, I was in hopes." "Prince Karl," said I, "I give you word of honor, 'tis not as you say or they say.

The Princess has indeed done me the honor to be friendly--" "To hold your hand!" he murmured, softly, like a chorus.
"Well, to be friendly, and--" "To caress your cheek ?" put in the Prince, gently as before.
"Done me the honor to be friendly--" "To play with your curls, lad ?" "The Princess--" I began, all in a tremor.

For anything more awkward than this conversation I had never experienced.

It bathed me in a drip of cold sweat.
"To kiss you, perhaps, at the waygoing ?" he insinuated.
"No!" thundered I, at last.