Disappointment. That was the only thing that le comte GarGar could feel the moment he walked onto the terrace for afternoon tea with Princess Pirouette. Of course there would be servants present, even if the Princess herself poured the tea. Servants were as ubiquitous as flies on a summer day, but to find half of the court crammed together in the narrow space that adjoined the rose garden was too much to bear. He had arrived with painstaking punctuality, expecting an intimate sojourn with the woman of his dreams, only to find himself just another human being in a crowd of human beings.
No! He would not have any tea. No! He would not take a seat fifty feet away from Her Most Royal Highness. No! No! No! To be treated so shabbily, he- the victor of many a battle who could always be counted upon to lead the charge- it was impossible to take this insult with even a pretense of equanimity. He would stay long enough to bow at the ladies, exchange a few pleasantries with the gentlemen, and then he would leave. He would depart without even taking his leave of Princess Pirouette. That would show her what kind of man he was!