Sir John regarded Otto with an approving twinkle; then he bowed, but
still in silence.
‘Well, sir, as you are now at your entire disposal, I have a favour to
beg of your indulgence,’ continued the Prince. ‘I have to request that
you will walk with me alone into the garden so soon as your convenience
permits.’
‘From the moment that I am a free man,’ Sir John replied, this time with
perfect courtesy, ‘I am wholly at your Highness’s command; and if you
will excuse a rather summary toilet, I will even follow you, as I am.’
‘I thank you, sir,’ said Otto.
So without more delay, the Prince leading, the pair proceeded down
through the echoing stairway of the tower, and out through the grating,
into the ample air and sunshine of the morning, and among the terraces
and flower-beds of the garden. They crossed the fish-pond, where the
carp were leaping as thick as bees; they mounted, one after another, the
various flights of stairs, snowed upon, as they went, with April
blossoms, and marching in time to the great orchestra of birds. Nor did
Otto pause till they had reached the highest terrace of the garden. Here
was a gate into the park, and hard by, under a tuft of laurel, a marble
garden seat. Hence they looked down on the green tops of many elm-trees,
where the rooks were busy; and, beyond that, upon the palace roof, and
the yellow banner flying in the blue. I pray you to be seated, sir,’
said Otto.
Sir John complied without a word; and for some seconds Otto walked to and
fro before him, plunged in angry thought. The birds were all singing for
a wager.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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