At once.'
'No. To-morrow.'
'To-morrow morning?'
'Yes. You can await me at your park-gates at eleven.'
'Then you'll lunch with me?'
'No.... Perhaps.'
'You're an angel!'
And he trudged home on the air. 'If a woman will listen!' his heart
sang. 'If a woman will come to see your garden!'
XIII.
That evening a servant handed him a letter.
'A footman has brought it from Granjolaye, and is waiting for an
answer.'
The letter ran thus:--
'Monsieur:
'I am directed by Her Majesty the Queen Helene to request
the pleasure of your company at the Chateau de Granjolaye
to-morrow at eleven. Her Majesty desires me to add that she
has only to-day learned of your presence in the country.
'Agreez, Monsieur, l'assurance de mes sentiments distingues,
'CTSSSE. DE WOLFENBACH.'
'Oh, this is staggering,' cried Paul. 'What to do?' He walked
backwards and forwards, pondering his reply. 'I believe the only
excuse that will pass with Royalty is illness or death. Shall I send
word that I died suddenly this morning? Ah, well, here goes for a
thumping lie.'
And he wrote: 'Madame, I am unspeakably honoured by her Majesty's
command, and in despair that the state of my health makes it
impossible for me to obey it.
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