“For him—­yes.”

“For him?” I echoed.

She nodded.  “I feel very sorry for Ferdinand.”  Then she blushed.  “I think he does love me, Armand.”

“I can’t blame him for that,” said I.  “He’s a queer sort if he doesn’t.”

“Foolish!” she laughed, giving me a little tap with her fan.  “And you see, dear, he might have had a chance if you had not come.”

I bent down until her hair brushed my face.

“And he has none now, sweetheart?” I said softly.

“You know that he has not.”

“And does he know it?”

“Yes—­he knows it—­now.  I told him the day he left.”

I was beginning to understand Lotzen’s sudden change of demeanor toward me.

“What did you tell him, little woman?” I asked.

She looked up with a bright smile.

“See how I’ve spoiled you,” she said.

“Then, spoil me just a little more,” I urged.

“Well—­I told him it was you,” she whispered.

The understanding was growing rapidly.

“And what did he say to that?”

“I know, Armand, you don’t like him; and, there, you may do him an injustice.  He said only the kindest things about you—­that you were able, courteous, brave—­a true Dalberg; and that, if it could not be he, he was glad it was you.”

I smiled.  “That was clever of him,” I commented.

“And he, too, does not believe the Spencer woman’s story.”

“His cleverness grows,” I laughed.  “It only remains for him to renounce his right to the Crown.”

“He said it was for the King to choose which was the worthier, and that, if it fell to you, he would serve you faithfully and well.”

I put my hand on her head and softly stroked her hair.

“And you believed him, dear?” I asked.

She looked up quickly.

“Yes—­I believed him.  I wanted to believe him—­Did he deceive me?”

“Listen,” said I.  “He reached Dornlitz two days ago.  Yesterday afternoon he insulted me repeatedly in my office at Headquarters.  Last night I attended the Vierle Masque.  While in the Garden I was struck in the back with a dagger.”

“Stabbed!” she exclaimed, and clutched my arm.

“No, dear—­not even scratched, thanks to Bernheim’s steel vest I was wearing.  Half an hour later, our cousin of Lotzen, with Mrs. Spencer on his arm, met me, alone, in a retired part of the Garden, forced a duel, and did his level best to run me through, by a trick of fence he thought he, alone knew.”

“And, again, the vest saved you?”

“No—­I was fortunate enough to disarm him.”

“Glorious, dear, glorious!” she exclaimed.  And tears filled her eyes.

And, as it was I that had caused them, it was but fair that I should take them away.

Then she made me go over the whole story in detail.

“Of course you will tell the King,” said she.