“Most beautiful, most condescending of all princesses,” he whispered softly, “I sue for pardon, for forgiveness.”

The Princess shrank back, and a glowing flush overspread her cheeks.  “My God!” she murmured, “that is not the voice—­”

“Not the voice of the one whom your highness desires to see,” said the kneeling figure, concluding her sentence for her.  “Yes, most amiable Princess, your tender, sensitive heart is not deceived.  I am not the Electoral Prince of Brandenburg.  I am—­”

“Count d’Entragues, the French ambassador,” cried the Princess, as the disguised man now threw back the hood of his mantle, and lifted up to her his youthfully handsome, smiling face.

“Scream not, most gracious lady,” said he, hastily, “and do not scold me, either; but be merciful and forgive me.  I lie here at your feet and entreat for pardon, and will not rise until you have granted it.”

The Princess still kept her astonished and inquiring glance fixed upon him, but the sight of this handsome young man, disarmed her wrath.

“Stand up, Count d’Entragues,” she said—­“stand up and account to me for this daring crime.”

“Your highness is right,” returned he, “it is a daring crime, and only the extremest necessity could have driven me to this.  I shall immediately therefore have the honor of explaining all this to the lovely, bewitching Princess Ludovicka Hollandine.”

With youthful agility he arose from his knees, took off his cloak, which he carelessly threw into a corner of the apartment, and presented himself to the Princess in a gold-embroidered velvet suit, richly trimmed with lace and ribbons.  Ludovicka fixed her large eyes upon the proud and dazzling apparition of the young count, and the angry flashing of her eyes softened.

“Sir Count,” she said, imperiously, “without evasion and without circumlocution explain to me directly the meaning of this!”

“You permit me to do so, then, fairest Princess?  You thereby empower me to remain a half hour in your charming presence?”

And while the count thus questioned, he took the hand of the Princess and covered it with kisses.  Then, with graceful gallantry and solemn seriousness, as if they had been in the midst of a grand courtly assemblage, he conducted her to the divan.  There she seated herself, and he bowed before her with all the formality and obsequiousness of a courtier as he took his place beside her.

“Now your highness desires to know above all things how I can have dared to intrude here at so unusual an hour, and without the shadow of permission,” he said with his mellifluous, insinuating voice.  “Most gracious Princess, I confess that you are well justified in this curiosity, and I hasten to gratify it.  Your grace expected a visitor indeed, but not the tiresome, unbidden Count d’Entragues—­not the ambassador and servant of King Louis XIII or Cardinal Richelieu, but you expected an eloquent, handsome young Prince, who loves the Princess Ludovicka Hollandine with passionate enthusiasm, and to whom after long and vain entreaties she has at last granted a rendezvous.”