ur Majesty," said I, "it is possible that Her
Highness . . . the likeness between her and her sister . . . perhaps,
knowing that I have known Her Highness Phyllis . . . that is, the
Princess Elizabeth . . . she may believe that I . . ." It was very
embarrassing.

"Continue," said the King. "And please make your sentences
intelligible."

"What I meant to say was that Her Highness the Princess Hildegarde,
believes that I love her sister instead of herself . . . I
thought . . . she has written otherwise . . ." And then I foundered
again.

"Prince," said the King, laughing in spite of his efforts to appear
angry, "for pity's sake, tell me what this man is talking about!"

"A woman," said the Chancellor. "Perhaps Her Highness the Princess
Hildegarde. . . . That is, I believe. . . . She may love this
man . . . perhaps thinking he loves the other. . ." He was mocking
me, and my face burned.

"Prince, do not confuse the man; he is bad enough as it is." The King
smoothed away the remnant of the smile.

"Your Majesty is right," said I, desperately. "I am confused. I know
not what to say."

"What would you do in my place?" asked the King of the Chancellor.

"I should say in an ominous voice, 'Young man, you may go; but if you
ever enter our presence again without either one or the other of the
Hohenphalian Princesses as your wife, we shall confiscate your property
and put you in a dungeon for the remainder of your natural days.' I
put in the confiscation clause as a matter of form. Have you any
property?"

"What I have," I answered, my confidence returning, "I can put in my
pockets."

"Good," said the King. "What the Chancellor says is but just. See to
it that his directions are followed."

"Now, my King," concluded the Chancellor, "put a medal on him and let
him go."

"In time," replied the King. "You may go, Herr Winthrop."

"Go and scribble no more," added the Chancellor.

I could hear them laughing as I made my escape from the room. It could
not be expected of me to join them. And Gretchen was as far away as
ever. Phyllis love me? It was absurd. Gretchen had played me the
fool. She had been laughing at me all the time. Yet, she had begged
my life of the Prince, and on her knees. Or, was it a lie of his? Oh,
it seemed to me that my brain would never become clear again.

In the afternoon at four I was ushered into the boudoir of Her Highness
the Princess Elizabeth. It was Phyllis n