door wide open; and at that instant Osra
sprang past him, her eyes gleaming like flames from her dead-white
face. And she stood rigid on the threshold of the room, with the
bishop by her side.

[Illustration: "IN THE MIDDLE OF THE ROOM STOOD THE PRINCE OF
GLOTTENBERG; AND ... CLINGING TO HIM ... WAS A GIRL OF SLIGHT AND SLENDER
FIGURE."]

In the middle of the room stood the Prince of Glottenberg; and
strained in a close embrace, clinging to him, supported by his arms,
with head buried in his breast, was a girl of slight and slender
figure, graceful, though not tall; and her body was still shaken by
continual, struggling sobs. The prince held her there as though
against the world, but raised his head, and looked at the intruders
with a grave, sad air. There was no shame on his face, and hardly
surprise. Presently he took one arm from about the lady, and, raising
it, motioned to them to be still. Osra took one step forward toward
where the pair stood; the bishop caught her sleeve, but she shook him
off. The lady looked up into the prince's face; with a sudden,
startled cry clutched him closer, and turned a terrified face over her
shoulder. Then she moaned in great fear, and, reeling, fell against
the prince, and would have sunk to the ground if he had not upheld
her; and her eyes closed and her lips dropped as she swooned away. But
the princess smiled, and, drawing herself to her full height, stood
watching while Ludwig bore the lady to a couch and laid her there.
Then, when he came back and faced her, she asked coldly and slowly:

"Who is this woman, sir? Or is she one of those that have no names?"

The prince sprang forward, a sudden anger in his eyes; he raised his
hand as if he would have pressed it across her scornful mouth, and
kept back her bitter words. But she did not flinch; and, pointing at
him with her finger, she cried to the bishop, in a ringing voice:

"Kill him, my lord, kill him!"

And the sword of the Bishop of Modenstein was half-way out of the
scabbard.

II.

"I would to God, my lord," said the prince in low, sad tones, "that
God would suffer you to kill me, and me to take death at your hands.
But neither for you nor for me is the blow lawful. Let me speak to the
princess."

The bishop still grasped his sword; for Osra's face and hand still
commanded him. But at the instant of his hesitation, while the
temptation was hot in him, there came from the couch where the lady
lay a low moan of