It was the desire of his heart to have the blood of Pollyooly's protector; and though the conduct of Pollyooly had oddly but considerably weakened his confident expectation of the immediate subjugation of the English people by his imperial master he longed with a greater fervour than had ever before burned in him for THE DAY.
The conversations, strictly confined to the British tongue, between the baron and his pupil, were always of the briefest and often truculent.
The prince was a silent child, by reason of the fact that he had nothing to say.

But one morning as they came down to the beach he startled the baron by saying: "I want to blay." "Yes, 'ighness, whad shall we blay ad ?" said the Baron von Habelschwert uncomfortably, after a little hesitation.
"I don't want to blay wiz you," said the prince in a tone which showed, beyond any possibility of misconception, that on that matter his mind was made up.
"Bud zere's no one else for you do blay wiz," said the baron in English.
"I want to blay wiz childrens," said the pupil.
The baron drew his heels together and became, though still pear-like, splendidly rigid.

His eyes flashed with haughty, but a trifle vicarious pride, as he said: "Zere are no children for your 'ighness do blay wiz 'ere.

Zese are nod 'igh and well-born ones." "I do nod care," said the prince in the tone of one who knew his own mind quite well.
"Id is imbossible," said the baron in a tone of finality.
The rhinocerine eyes of his little charge flashed in sudden wrath; and he uttered a curious, pig-like snort as he sprang at the baron, and got in one severe kick on his left shin before that thoughtless Prussian, who should have known so well what to expect, could abate his rigidity and bend forward and hold him off at the length of his arms.

He well knew that, in that constrained attitude to his bellowing pupil, he was presenting no dignified spectacle.