Arms and the Woman

"When does the Herr leave?"

"At once. There will be no questions?" I asked, pointing to the

village.

"None. Who knows?"

"Then, remember that Herr Hillars was taken suddenly ill and died, and

that he desired to be buried here. I dare say the Prince will find

some excuse for his arm, knowing the King's will in regard to dueling.

Do you understand me?"

"Yes."

I did not speak to him again, and he strode along at my heels with an

air of preoccupation. We reached the inn in silence.

"What do you know about her Serene Highness the Princess Hildegarde?" I

asked abruptly.

"What does Herr wish to know?" shifting his eyes from my gaze.

"All you can tell me."

"I was formerly in her father's service. My wife----" He hesitated,

and the expression on his face was a sour one.

"Go on."

"Ah, but it is unpleasant, Herr. You see, my wife and I were not on

the best of terms. She was handsome . . . a cousin of the late Prince.

. . . She left me more than twenty years ago. I have never seen her

since, and I trust that she is dead. She was her late Highness's

hair-dresser."

"And the Princess Hildegarde?"

"She is a woman for whom I would gladly lay down my life."

"Yes, yes!" I said impatiently. "Who made her the woman she is? Who

taught her to shoot and fence?"

"It was I."

"You?"

"Yes. From childhood she has been under my care. Her mother did so

desire. She is all I have in the world to love. And she loves me,

Herr; for in all her trials I have been her only friend. But why do

you ask these questions?" a sudden suspicion lighting his eyes.

"I love her."

He took me by the shoulders and squared me in front of him.

"How do you love her?" a glint of anger mingling with the suspicion.

"I love her as a man who wishes to make her his wife."

His hands trailed down my sleeves till they met and joined mine.

"I will tell you all there is to be told. Herr, there was once a happy

family in the palace of the Hohenphalians. The Prince was rather wild,

but he loved his wife. One day his cousin came to visit him. He was a

fascinating man in those days, and few women were there who would not

give an ear to his flatteries. He was often with the Princess, but she

hated him. One day an abominable thing happened. This cousin loved

the Princess. She scorned him. As the Prince was entering the boudoir

this cousin, making out that he was unconscious of the husband's

approach, took the Princess in his arms and kissed her. The Prince was

too far away to see the horror in his wife's face. He believed her to

be acquiescent. That night he accused her. Her denials were in vain.

He confronted her with his cousin, who swore before the immortal God

himself that the Princess had lain willing in his arms. From that time

on the Prince changed. He became reckless; he fell in with evil

company; he grew to be a shameless ruffian, a man who brought his women

into his wife's presence, and struck her while they were there. And in

his passions he called her terrible names. He made a vow that when

children came he would make them things of scorn. In her great

trouble, the Princess came to my inn, where the Princess Hildegarde was

born. The Prince refused to believe that the child was his. My

mistress finally sickened and died--broken-hearted. The Prince died in

a gambling den. The King became the guardian of the lonely child. He

knows but little, or he would not ask Her Highness--" He stopped.