"But Flora, I love you so!" the Prince turned to Flora, who was writhing in the Generals grip.
"Now, Flora, why don't you want to marry his Highness?" The General inquired grandfatherly. "Has he not been nice to you?"
Flora had recovered a little. "I told him I did not want to be his wife, that I just wanted to be his mistress! And now he tells me I have to become a catholic and marry him!"
The Bishop spat out his tea. "Catholic?" he squeeled.
"Is there a reason why you should better marry the prince, little Flora?" The General gently squeezed her arm.
"What? Of course there is," Dominic spat. "He has obviously compromised the girl, that rascal! What do you think she was doing in this castle in a nightgown? Playing chess? He never knew right from wrong."
"No, he hasn't!" Flora shouted, coming to the Prince's defense. "I compromised myself!"
"Oh, darling, that's not true," Francesco cried. "It was my fault alone."
"No, no, it wasn't!" Flora sobbed. "I came to you in that wretched boat, and I was drunk on wine and I wanted to see you so badly and then…"
"I have behaved monstrously!"
"No, my love, you haven't!" Flora tore herself loose and ran towards the Prince. He lifted her into his arms, kissing her, then, murmuring unintelligible words of tenderness, he carried her off into the house.
The priest was still gagging on his tea when the two disappeared. Lady Cartwright patted his shoulder in support.
"Now, now, don't take it so hard, Excellency. It happens all the time, I'm told. At least, this time, he was wearing trousers!"
Seventeen
Dearest Mama, dearest Papa
I have some important news, which you may look upon unfavourably. I ask your forgiveness, but I had little choice in the matter:
I am now a catholic.
And I got married!
Your loving daughter,
HRH Princess Flora Karlsburg-Sforza, Archduchess of Lombardy, Marquise of Brescia and Countess of Varese
THE END