se me of. Hurry," I added
menacingly.

The Tisch was unmoved. Either she thinks me a horrible dastard or is
brave to madness. She looked at me fearlessly and smiled. She seemed to
enjoy my rage.

"Answer or I will shoot you like the dog you are."

And then her cold and fearless voice rang out: "Put your revolver away.
I am not afraid to tell you, and that thing might go off. Is it
possible," she continued sarcastically, "you have to ask?"

This woman dared to address me "you." "Tisch," I thundered, "my title
reads Your Imperial Highness."

Another contemptuous smile curled her thin lips as she answered
insolently: "At your commands. But if you want me to talk, put away the
weapon. I won't open my head while threatened."

I threw the revolver into a drawer of my chiffonier and the Tisch
approached me. "Do you know this?" she hissed, whipping from her desert
bosom the golden _Portebonheur_, Henry's present.

I had missed it for two days. Fear seized my throat.

"Do you know this?" repeated the Tisch, pushing the button and
disclosing Henry's miniature with the legend "To my sweetest Louise."

"Where did you get it?" I asked, half-dead with shame and fear.

"Never mind. It's the last piece of evidence that fell into my hands.
The real facts I have known for a long while."

"And sold that knowledge?"

"I did my duty."

"Report, then."

And she told the story of her infamy--or mine?

My true relations with Henry were discovered by her at Loschwitz. He is
a distant relative of hers and she an intimate friend of his mother.
Hence she took care not to compromise the young man. The entire blame
was put on me.

"Her Imperial Highness is indulging in a dangerous flirtation with Baron
Bergen," she advised the King. "They must be separated at once lest that
exemplary young man fall victim to her seductive wiles. I beseech Your
Majesty to order the Crown Princess to Pillnitz and put a stop to her
most reprehensible conduct."

Hence the royal command to proceed to Pillnitz without a moment's delay.
"The King and Prince George deem your honor unsafe unless you are under
their watchful eyes," she had the effrontery to tell me.

She drew a key from her pocket and opened one of the bedroom doors.

With her hand on the knob, she said, bowing formally:

"By Your Imperial Highness's leave, I will keep the _Portebonheur_ to
use in case you are ever tempted again 'to throw me out of doors like a
thieving lackey!'"