"Monsieur Carewe, you are not acquainted with affairs in Bleiberg, or you would know that I am a nobody.When I pass through the streets I attract little attention, I receive no homage.Enter: I command it.""If your Highness commands--"
"I do command it," imperiously."And you would have pleased me more fully if you had accepted the invitation and not obeyed the command.""I withdraw all objections," he said hastily, "and accept the invitation.""That is better," the Voice said.
Maurice, still uncovered, sat down on the front seat.
"Not there, Monsieur; beside me.Etiquette does not permit you to ride in front of me."As he took the vacant place beside her he felt a fire in his cheeks.The Voice and Presence were disquieting.As the groom touched the horses, Maurice was sensible of her sleeve against his, and he drew away.The Presence appeared unmindful.
"And you recognize me?" she asked.
"Yes, your Highness." He tried to remember what he had said to her that day in the archbishop's garden.Two or three things came back and the color remounted his cheeks.
"Have you forgotten what you said to me?""I dare say I was impertinent," vaguely.
"Ah, you have forgotten, then!"
In all his life he never felt so ill at ease.To what did she refer? That he would be proud to be her friend? That if the princess was as beautiful as the maid he could pass judgment?
"Yes, you have forgotten.Do you not remember that you offered to be my friend?" She read him through and through, his embarrassment, the tell-tale color in his cheeks.She laughed, and there was nothing but youth in the laughter."Certainly you are afraid of me.""I confess I am," he said."I can not remember all I said to you."Suddenly she, too, remembered something, and it caused the red of the rose to ripple from her throat to her eyes."Poor dog!
Not that they hated him, but because I love him!" Tears started to her eyes."See, Monsieur Carewe; princesses are human, they weep and they love.Poor dog! My playmate and my friend.But for you they might have killed him.Tell me how it happened." She knew, but she wanted to hear the story from his own lips.
His narrative was rather disjointed, and he slipped in von Mitter as many times as possible, thinking to do that individual a good turn.Perhaps she noticed it, for at intervals she smiled.
During the telling he took out his handkerchief, wiped the dog's head with it, and wound it tightly about the injured leg.
The dog knew; he wagged his tail.
How handsome and brave, she thought, as she observed the face in profile.Not a day had passed during the fortnight gone that she had not conjured up some feature of that intelligent countenance;sometimes it had been the eyes, sometimes the chin and mouth, sometimes the shapely head.It was wrong; but this little sin was so sweet.She had never expected to see him again.He had come and gone, and she had thought that the beginning and the end.Ah, if only she were not a princess! If only some hand would sweep aside those insurmountable barriers called birth and policy! To be free, to be the mistress of one's heart, one's dreams, one's desires!
"And you did it all alone," she said, softly; "all alone.""O, I had the advantage; I was not expected.It was all over before they knew what had happened.""And you had the courage to take a poor dog's part? Did you know whose dog it was?""Yes, your Highness, I recognized him."
A secret gladness stole into her heart, and to cover the flame which again rose to her cheeks, she bent and smoothed the dog's head.This gave Maurice an opportunity to look at her.What a beautiful being she was! He was actually sitting beside her, breathing the same air, listening to her voice.She exhaled a delicate perfume such as incorporates itself in persons of high degree and becomes a natural emanation, an incense vague and indescribable.He felt that he was gazing on the culmination of youth, beauty, and elegance...Yes, Fitzgerald was right.To beggar one's self for love; honor and life, and all to the winds if only love remained.
Presently she straightened, and he centered his gaze on the back of the groom.
"Monsieur, place your hat upon your head," smiling."We have entered the Strasse, and I should not like to embarrass you with the attention of the citizens."He put on his hat.The impulse came to tell her all that he knew in regard to the kingdom's affairs; but his voice refused its offices.Besides, it was too late; the carriage was rolling into the Platz, and in a moment more it drew up before the terrace of the Continental Hotel.Maurice stepped out and bared his head.
"This evening, Monsieur, at nine, I shall expect to see you at the archbishop's reception to the corps diplomatique." A hand was extended toward him.He did not know what to do about it."Iam offering you my hand to kiss, Monsieur Carewe; it is a privilege which I do not extend to all."As he touched it to his lips, he was sure that a thousand pairs of eyes were centered on him.The truth is, there were less than one hundred.It was the first time in many months that the Crown Princess had stopped before the Continental Hotel.To the guests it was an event; and some even went as far as to whisper that the handsome young man was Prince Frederick, incognito.
"God save your Royal Highness," said Maurice, at loss for other words.He released her hand and stepped back.
"Until this evening, then, Monsieur;" and the royal barouche rolled away.
"Who loves me, loves my dog," said Maurice, as he sped to his room.
