“Hermann!”

Gretchen and the head gardener whirled.  Through a hedge which divided the formal gardens from the tennis and archery grounds came a young woman in riding-habit.  She carried a book in one hand and a riding-whip in the other.

“What is the trouble, Hermann?” she inquired.  “Your voice was something high.”

“Your Highness, this young woman here had the impudence to walk into the gardens and stroll about as nice as you please,” indignantly.

“Has she stolen any flowers or trod on any of the beds?”

“Why, no, your Highness; but—­”

“What is the harm, then?”

“But it is not customary, your Highness.  If we permitted this on the part of the people, the gardens would be ruined in a week.”

“We, you and I, Hermann,” said her highness, with a smile that won Gretchen on the spot, “we will overlook this first offense.  Perhaps this young lady had some errand and lost her way.”

“Yes, Highness,” replied Gretchen eagerly.

“Ah!  You may go, Hermann.”

“Your highness alone with—­”

“Go at once,” kindly, but with royal firmness.

Hermann bowed, gathered up his pruning knives and scissors which he had let fall, and stalked down the path.  What was it? he wondered.  She was a princess in all things save her lack of coldness toward the people.  It was wrong to meet them in this way, it was not in order.  Her highness had lived too long among them.  She would never rid herself of the idea that the humble had hearts and minds like the exalted.

As the figure of the head gardener diminished and shortly vanished behind a bed of palms, her highness laughed brightly, and Gretchen, to her own surprise, found herself laughing also, easily and without constraint.

“Whom were you seeking?” her highness asked, rather startled by the undeniable beauty of this peasant.

“I was seeking your serene highness.  I live at number forty the Krumerweg, and the sick woman gave me this note for you.”

“Krumerweg?” Her highness reached for the note and read it, and as she read tears gathered in her eyes.  “Follow me,” she said.  She led Gretchen to a marble bench and sat down.  Gretchen remained on her feet respectfully.  “What is your name?”

[Illustration:  She led Gretchen to a marble bench and sat down.]

“Gretchen, Highness.”

“Well, Gretchen, sit down.”

“In your presence, Highness?” aghast.

“Don’t bother about my presence on a morning like this.  Sit down.”