y own heart broken, Arnsberg ruined and disgraced! And these two
children: which is mine?"

To the king of Jugendheit the ceiling reeled and the floor revolved
under his feet.

"Villain, what have you to say? What was your purpose?"

How many years, thought Herbeck, had he been preparing for this moment?
How long had he been steeling his heart against this very scene? Futile
dream! He drew himself together with a supreme effort. He would face
this hour as he had always planned to face it. Found out! He looked at
his finger, touched it with an impersonal curiosity. He had forgotten
all about such a possibility. Where had he read that there is no crime
but leaves some evidence, infinitesimally small though it be, which
shall lead to the truth? After all, he was glad. The strain, borne so
long, was gradually killing him. A little finger, to have stopped the
wheel of so great a scheme! Irony!

"Your Highness," he said, his voice soft and strangely clear, "I have
been waiting for this hour. So I am found out! How little we know what
God intends!"

"You speak of God? You blaspheme!"

"Bear with me for a space. I shall not hold you long."

"But why? What have I done to you that you should wreck all I hold
dear?"

"For you I have always had a strong affection, strange as it may sound."
Herbeck fumbled with his collar, which was tightening round his throat
like a band of hot iron. "I have practically governed this country for
sixteen years. In that time I have made it prosperous and happy; I have
given you a substantial treasury; I have made you an army; I have
brought peace where you would have brought war. To my people God will
witness that I have done my duty as I saw it. One day I fell the victim
of a mad dream. And to think that I almost won!"

"And I?" said Hildegarde, her hands clenched and pressed against her
bosom. "What have you done to me, who am innocent of any wrong? What
have you done to me?"

"You, my child? I have wronged you greatest of all. The wrong I have
done to you is irreparable. Ah, have not my arms hungered for the touch
of you, my heart ached for the longing of you? To see you day after day,
always humble before you, always glad to kiss the back of your hand!
Have I not lived in hell, your Highness?" turning to the duke.

"What am I, and who am I?" whispered Hildegarde, her heart almost
ceasing to beat.

"I am your father!" simply.

CHAPTER XXIII

HAPPINESS

The grand duke o