“I don’t understand you. How could he have me in view, and not be aware of it himself? And yet, I don’t know⁠—perhaps I do. Do you know I have intended to poison myself at least thirty times⁠—ever since I was thirteen or so⁠—and to write to my parents before I did it? I used to think how nice it would be to lie in my coffin, and have them all weeping over me and saying it was all their fault for being so cruel, and all that⁠—what are you smiling at?” she added, knitting her brow. “What do you think of when you go mooning about alone? I suppose you imagine yourself a field-marshal, and think you have conquered Napoleon?”

“Well, I really have thought something of the sort now and then, especially when just dozing off,” laughed the prince. “Only it is the Austrians whom I conquer⁠—not Napoleon.”