“Ah, that does not matter,” cried the maid; “often he would be most difficult when you came running in just for a moment.  Why, he would straighten you up and make you do your bows if you were only racing after a kitten, or, what was worse, he would call the Court Chamberlain to show you how to do it.  But when I am grown up—­ah, then!—­I mean to make the Chamberlain bow and walk backward; for you know he is only taking care of my princedom for me.  Oh, and I shall have you well taught by that time, long man.  It is cold—­cold.  Let me get into your bed and I will give you your first lesson now.”

So with that she skipped into my father’s place and drew the great red cloak about her.

“Now then, first position,” she commanded, clapping her hands like a Sultana, “your feet together.  Draw back your left—­so.  Very well!  Bend the knee—­stupid, not that one.  Now your head.  If I have to come to you, sir—­there, that is better.  Well done!  Oh, I shall have a peck of trouble with you, I can see that.  But you will do me credit before I have done with you.”

In a little while she tired of the lesson.

“Come and sit down now”—­she waved her hand graciously—­“here on the bed by me.  Though I am a Princess really, I am not proud, and, as I said, I may make something of you yet.”

My father came forward gravely, wrapped himself in another of his red cloaks, and sat down.  I shivered in my blanket on the stair-head, but I could not bear to move nor yet reveal myself.  This was better than any play I had ever watched from the sparred gallery of the palace, to which Gottfried Gottfried took me sometimes when the mummers came from Brandenburg to divert Duke Casimir.

“My father, the great Prince, took me for a long ride last night.  There was much noise and many bonfires behind us as we rode away, and some of the men spoke roughly, for which my father will rate them soundly to-day.  Oh, they will be sick and sorry this morning when the Prince takes them to task.  I hope you will never make him angry,” she said, laying her hand warningly on my father’s; “but if ever you do, come to me and I will speak to the Prince for you.  You need not be bashful, for I do not mind a bit speaking to him, or indeed to any one.  You will remember and not be bashful when you have something to ask?”

“I will assuredly not be bashful,” said my father, very solemnly.  “I will come and tell you at once, little lady, if I ever have the misfortune to offend the most noble Prince.”

Then he bent his head and raised her hand to his lips.  She bowed in return with exquisite reserve and hauteur; and, as it seemed to me, more with her long eyelashes than with anything else.

“Do you know, Black Man,” she said—­“for, you know, you are black, though you wear red clothes—­I am glad you are not afraid of me.  At home every one was afraid of me.  Why, the little children stood with their mouths open and their eyes like this whenever they saw me.”