My heart was bruised, and I was very
unhappy."

She paused, but her companion made no sign. She paused for so long,
however, that speech became necessary.

"You are speaking, Princess," he said calmly, "to one who is not
present. My name is no longer Leopold."

She laughed at him with a curious mixture of tenderness and bitterness.

"My friend," she continued, "I am terrified to think, besides your name,
how much of humanity you have lost in your new identity. To proceed
it suited my convenience to remain for a few days in Berlin, and I was
therefore compelled to present myself at Potsdam. There I received a
great surprise. Wilhelm spoke to me of you, and though, alas! my heart
is still bruised, he helped me to understand."

"Is this wise?" he asked a little desperately.

She ignored his words.

"I was taken back into favour at Court," she went on. "For that I owe to
you my thanks. Wilhelm was much impressed by your recent visit to him,
and by the way in which you have established yourself here. He spoke
also with warm commendation of your labours in Africa, which he seemed
to appreciate all the more as you were sent there an exile. He asked
me, Leopold," she added, dropping her voice a little, "if my feelings
towards you remained unchanged."

Dominey's face remained unrelaxed. Persistently he refused the challenge
of her eyes.

"I told him the truth," she proceeded. "I told him how it all began, and
how it must last with me--to the end. We spoke even of the duel. I told
him what both your seconds had explained to me,--that turn of the wrist,
Conrad's wild lunge, how he literally threw himself upon the point of
your sword. Wilhelm understands and forgives, and he has sent you this
letter."

She drew a small grey envelope from her pocket. On the seal were the
Imperial Hohenzollern arms. She passed it to him.

"Leopold," she whispered, "please read that."

He shook his head, although he accepted the letter with reluctant
fingers.

"Read the superscription," she directed.

He obeyed her. It was addressed in a strange, straggling handwriting to
_Sir Everard Dominey, Baronet_. He broke the seal unwillingly and drew
out the letter. It was dated barely a fortnight back. There was neither
beginning or ending; just a couple of sentences scrawled across the
thick notepaper:

"It is my will that you offer your hand in marriage to the Princess
Stephanie of Eiderstrom. Your union shall be blessed by the Church