"Love anybody? What do you mean?"--rising in spite of the protesting

hands. "Do I look as if I were in love with anybody?"

They searched each other's eyes.

"Oh, you islanders! Nobody can fathom what is going on in your hearts.

You never make any mistakes; you always seem to know which paths to

pursue; you are always right, always, always. I'd like to see you

commit a folly, Betty; it's a wicked wish, I know, but I honestly wish

it. There is certainly more Spanish blood in my veins than German. I

am always making mistakes; I never know which path is the right one; I

am always wrong. Do you believe it possible for a woman of birth and

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breeding to fall in love with a man whom she has known only three days?"

"Three days! Are you crazy, Hildegarde?"

"Call me Gretchen!"--imperiously.

"Gretchen, what has come over you?"

"I asked you a question."

"Well,"---a bit of color stealing into her cheeks,--"it is possible,

but very foolish. One ought to know something of a man's character,"

went on Betty, "before permitting sentiment to enter into one's

thoughts."

"That is my own opinion, wise little white owl." Her Highness took her

friend in her arms and kissed her, held her at arm's length, drew her

to her heart and again kissed her. It was like a farewell. Then she

let her go. "If there is anything you need, make yourself at home with

my cases." And her Highness was gone.

Betty gazed at the door through which dear Gretchen had passed, gazed

thoughtfully and anxiously.

"How oddly she acted! I wonder--" She made as though to run to the

door, but stopped, as if ashamed of the doubt which flashed into her

mind and out again.

The little clock on the mantel chimed forth the seventh hour, and she

rang for her maid. It was time that she began dressing.

(Thus, for the present, I shall leave her. There are several reasons

why my imagination should take this step; for, what should I know of a

woman's toilet, save in the general mysterious results? However, I

feel at liberty to steal into the duke's dressing-room. Here, while I

am not positive what happened, at least I can easily bring my

imagination to bear upon the picture.)

The duke was rather pleased with himself. He liked to put on his state

uniform, with its blue-grey frock, the white doeskin trousers which

strapped under the patent-leather boots, the gold braid, the silver

saber and the little rope of medals strung across his full, broad

breast. It was thus he created awe; it was thus he became truly the

sovereign, urbane and majestic.




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