yours--and that several times--among the ladies of
the court. I was in hopes--"

And the Prince stopped in his turn, not from bashfulness, but rather like
a man who desires more carefully to choose his words.

"I was in hopes," he went on, speaking slowly, "that if the Princess
loved your boy's face and liked my conversation (which I may say without
pride that I think she does) you and I together might have kept her at
home. So over-much wandering is not good for the state. Also it gets her
a name beyond all manner of ill-doing within-doors."

Once more I knew not well what to answer to this speech of the Prince's,
so I remained discreetly silent.

"I have seen the Princess's flittermice about her before, often enough (I
thank thee for the word, Sir Captain.), but this is the first time she
has performed the ink-pool and crystal foolery with any man. There is no
great harm in the Princess. In the things of love she is as inflammable
as the ink, and as soft as the crystal. Fear not, Joseph, Potiphera may
be depended upon not to proceed to extremities. But I was in some hopes
that you and I could have arranged matters between us, being both
men--aye, and honorable men."

I saw that Karl Miller's Son looked sad and troubled.

"Prince, you love the Princess!" said I, thrusting out my hand to him
before I thought. He did not take it, but instead he thrust a flagon of
wine into it, as if I had asked for that--yet the thing was not done by
way of a rebuff. I saw that plainly.

"Pshaw! What does a grizzle-pate with love?" said he, gruffly.
"Nevertheless, I was in hopes."

"Prince Karl," said I, "I give you word of honor, 'tis not as you say or
they say. The Princess has indeed done me the honor to be friendly--"

"To hold your hand!" he murmured, softly, like a chorus.

"Well, to be friendly, and--"

"To caress your cheek?" put in the Prince, gently as before.

"Done me the honor to be friendly--"

"To play with your curls, lad?"

"The Princess--" I began, all in a tremor. For anything more awkward
than this conversation I had never experienced. It bathed me in a drip
of cold sweat.

"To kiss you, perhaps, at the waygoing?" he insinuated.

"No!" thundered I, at last. "Prince, you do your Princess great wrong."

He lifted his hand in a gentle, deprecating way, most unlike the rider
who had ridden so fast and so hotly that night of our coming.

"You mistake me, sir," he said. "On the contrary, I have the grea