e duke were out of his
mind; and then she recollected her conversation with the princess. Her
mouth opened as if to speak, but instead she closed her lips tightly.
That wilful girl; whatever would become of her!

"Give this letter to your mistress," said the duke to the maid. "I
will station myself in the window while she reads it."

He strode over to the window and drew the curtains about him. Below,
the night crowds were wandering about the streets; the band was playing
in the Volksgarten; carriages were rolling to and from the opera; the
fountain in the center of the square sparkled merrily in the glare of
the arc lights. But the duke saw none of these things. Rather he saw
the telegraphic despatches flying to the four ends of the globe,
telling the peoples that he, the Grand Duke of Barscheit, had been
outwitted by a girl; that the Princess Hildegarde had eloped with a man
who was not the chosen one. In other words, he saw himself laughed at
from one end of the continent to the other. (There is something very
funny in domestic troubles when they occur in another man's family!)
No, the duke saw not the beauty of the night; instead of stars he saw
asterisks, that abominable astronomy of the lampoonists. He had never
doubted the girl's courage; but to elope! . . . And _who_ the devil
had eloped with her? He knew the girl's natural pride; whoever the
fellow might be, he could be no less than a gentleman. But who, who?

"Your Highness?" called a quiet (I might say deceptive) voice.

The duke came forth.

"Your Highness will do me the honor to make out my passports to-night.
I desire to leave the palace immediately. The affront you have put
upon me, even under the circumstances, is wholly unpardonable. You
imply that I have had something to do with her Highness' act. You will
excuse me to her serene Highness, whom I love and respect. My dignity
demands that I leave at once."

A flicker--but only a flicker--of admiration lighted the duke's eyes.
It was a plucky little baggage.

"I will issue your passports upon one condition," he said.

"And that condition?"--proudly.

"Tell me everything: Where has she gone, and with whom?"

"I know absolutely nothing."

Silence. The duke gnawed his mustache, while his eyes strove in vain
to beat down hers.

"Thank you, I believe you." Then, giving way to his wrath: "You
English people, you are all the same! You never understand. I have
brought up this g