o a strange and
horrible blunder. The locket you hold in your hand was taken from you
when you were an infant. The one you wear round your neck is, according
to the statement of one of these men, not genuine."

"And the significance?" She grew tall, and the torn sleeve fell away
from her arm.

"That what is done must be all undone. I know you to be brave.
Strengthen your heart, then. I stand before you the most wretched man in
all this duchy. These men affirm that I am not your father. They say
that you are not my daughter."

"And that Gretchen is!" spoke Hans. His conscience was costing every one
something dear.

"I?" Gretchen drew closer to Hildegarde.

The duke studied the portrait of the mother and then the faces of these
two girls. Both possessed a resemblance, only it seemed now that
Gretchen was nearest to the portrait and Hildegarde nearest to the
doubt.

"You say she wore the costume of a Gipsy child when you lost her?" said
the duke.

"Yes." Von Arnsberg took from under his coat a small bundle which he
opened with shaking fingers. He had been in the Krumerweg that
afternoon.

"Why, those are mine!" exclaimed Gretchen excitedly.

"You see?" said Von Arnsberg. "Would you not like to be a princess,
Gretchen?"

A princess? Gretchen's heart fluttered. A princess? She saw the king
shaking the bars of his cell; she heard his voice calling out his love
for her. A princess? She laid her head on Hildegarde's shoulder. She was
weak, and this was some dream.

"But who, then, am I?" asked Hildegarde. There was no sign of weakness
here.

Again there was no answer.

"Tell what you know," said Hans to the Gipsy. "Highness, he alone knows
the man who brought about all this."

"The archplotter of this damnable conspiracy?" The duke's eyes became
alive, his face, his whole body. Every beat of his heart cried out for
vengeance. "Who is he? Tell me! Give him to me, man, and all of you
shall go free. Give him into these hands. His name!" The duke's hands
worked convulsively as if they were already round the throat of this
unseen, implacable enemy. He was terrible in this moment.

The Gipsy produced a letter. It had to be held carefully, as it was old
and tattered. The duke read it. Beyond that it made the original offer
it was worthless. The handwriting was palpably disguised. The duke flung
the missive to the floor.

"Fool! Is that all you have? Tell me what you know, man, or I shall have
you shot in the mo