The King: I give up. Even I couldn't expect the boy to—
Grand Duke: Well, if I may say so, Your Majesty, I did try to warn you; but you, Sire, are incurably romantic. No doubt you saw the whole pretty picture in detail. The young prince bowing to the assembly. Suddenly he stops. He looks up. For, lo, there she stands. The girl of his dreams. Who she is or whence she came, he knows not, nor does he care for his heart tells him that here, here is the maid he is predestined to be his bride. A pretty plot for fairy tales, Sire. But in real life...oh, no. No, it was foredoomed to failure.
[unbeknownst to him, everything he described has just happened]
The King: Failure, eh? Ha-ha! Take a look at that, you pompous windbag!
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