"I'll take your word for it, Colonel!" cried the prince. "I said from
the first that he wasn't bad-looking. Didn't I, Princess?" He then
turned embarrassedly toward Max and timidly held out his hand. That
was as near sentiment as ever the father and the son came, but it was
genuine. "Ho, steward! Hans, you rascal, where are you?"
The steward presently entered, shading his eyes.
"Your Highness called?"
"That I did. That's Max come home!"
"Little Max?"
"Little Max. Now, candles, and march yourself to the packing-cellars.
Off with you!" The happy old man slapped the duke on the shoulder.
"I've an idea, Josef."
"What is it?" asked the duke, also very well pleased with events.
"I'll tell you all about it when we get into the cellar." But the nod
toward the girl and the nod toward Max was a liberal education.
"I am pardoned?" said Arnheim.
"Pardoned? My boy, if I had an army I would make you a general!"
roared the prince. "Come along, Josef. And you, Arnheim! You
troopers, out of here, every one of you, and leave these two young
persons alone!"
And out of the various doors the little company departed, leaving the
princess and Max alone.
Ah, how everything was changed! thought Max, as he let down his sleeve
and buttoned his cuff. A prince! He was a prince; he, Max
Scharfenstein, cow-boy, quarter-back, trooper, doctor, was a prince!
If it was a dream, he was going to box the ears of the bell-boy who
woke him up. But it wasn't a dream; he knew it wasn't. The girl
yonder didn't dissolve into mist and disappear; she was living, living.
He had now the right to love any one he chose, and he did choose to
love this beautiful girl, who, with lowered eyes, was nervously
plucking the ends of the pillow tassel. It was all changed for her,
too.
"Princess!" he said a bit brokenly.
"I am called Gretchen by my friends,"--with a boldness that only
half-disguised her real timidity. What would he do, this big, handsome
fellow, who had turned out to be a prince, fairy-tale wise?
"Gretchen? I like that better than Hildegarde; it is less formal.
Well, then, Gretchen, I can't explain it, but this new order of things
has given me a tremendous backbone." He crossed the room to her side.
"You will not wed my--my father?"
"Never in all this world!"--slipping around the table, her eyes dim
like the bloom on the grape. She ought not to be afraid of him, but
she was.
"But I--"
"You have known me only four days," she whispered faintly. "You can
not know your mind."