t
understanding why Andro had not come through the anteroom to announce
whoever it might be.

"If your highness permits me...."

He recognized the duchess' soft voice, rose, went to the door:

"Come in, duchess...."

She entered, hesitatingly; she had thrown a long cloak over her bare
shoulders to go through the chilly passages of the castle....

"Forgive me, highness, if I intrude ... if I disturb you...."

He smiled, said no, apologized for his costume, feeling surprised and
pleased....

She saw that his eyes were swimming with moisture:

"I am indiscreet," she said, "but I couldn't help it; I felt I must find
out how you were, highness.... Perhaps I wished to surprise you as well:
I don't quite know. Something impelled me: I could not help coming to
you. You are my guest and my crown-prince; I longed to see for myself
how you were.... Your highness bore up well at dinner, but I felt...."

Her voice flowed on, soft and monotonous, as though with drops of
balsam. He asked her to sit down; she did so; he sat down by her side;
the dark cloak slipped off and she was magnificent, with her white neck,
siren-like in her opalescent, pale-green watered silk. He noticed that
she had laid aside the jewels which she had worn at dinner.

"I wanted to come to you quietly, through that door," she resumed, "in
order to tell you once more, to tell you alone, how unspeakably thankful
I am that your highness' life has been preserved...."

Her voice trembled; her ebony glances grew moist; the light of the great
candles in the silver candelabra shimmered over the silk of her dress,
played with soft light and slumbering shadow in the modelling of her
face, in the curve of her bosom.

He pressed her hand; she retained his:

"Was your highness crying when I came in?" she asked.

His tears were still flowing, a last sob heaved through his body.

"Why?" she asked again. "Or am I indiscreet?..."

He looked at her; at this moment he could have told her everything. And,
though he contained himself, yet he gave her the essence of his grief:

"I was sad," he said, "because they seem to hate me. Nothing makes me so
sad as their hatred."

She looked at him long, felt his sorrow, understood him with her
feminine tact, with her courtier-like swiftness of comprehension, which
had ripened in the immediate contact of her sovereigns. She understood
him: he was the crown-prince, he must suffer his special princely
suffering; he must dr