The moment the curtain dropped I left the stall.  I passed along the corridor and soon stood outside the box in which Phyllis sat.  I knocked gently.

“Enter!” said a soft voice.

“Ah,” said the Chancellor, smiling as he saw me.  “Duke, I believe their Majesties are looking this way.  Let us go to them.  I am pleased to see you, Herr Winthrop.  Duke, this is the gentleman who has turned us all upside down.”

The Duke bowed, and the two left me alone with Phyllis.

There was an embarrassing silence, but she surmounted it.

“Why have you not been to see me?” she asked.  “Are you done with me now that you have made me a Princess?”

“I did call, but was told that you were indisposed,” said I.

“It was because I did not see your card.  I shall never be indisposed to my friends—­the old ones.  However, they will be crowding in here shortly.  Will you come and see me at four to-morrow afternoon?”

“Is it important?” I was thinking of the duel when I said this.

“Very—­to you.  You have a strange funereal expression for a man who is about to wed the woman he loves.”

“Your sister has left town?” not knowing what else to say.

“Only for a few days; at least so she told me.  Have you seen her?”

“No, I have not.  A Princess!” dropping into a lighter tone.  “You carry your honors well.  It was to be expected of you.  I might have made you a Queen, but that would not have changed you any.”

“Thank you.  Do you know, a title is a most wonderful drawing apparatus?  Since Thursday it has been a continued performance of presentations.  And I care absolutely nothing for it all.  Indeed, it rests heavily upon me.  I am no longer free.  Ah, Jack, and to think that I must blame you!  I have been longing all the evening for the little garden at home.  Yes, it will always be home to me.  I am almost an alien.  I would rather sell lemonade to poor reporters who had only twenty-five-cent pieces in their pockets than queen it over a people that do not interest me and with whom I have nothing in common.”  She smiled, rather sadly, I thought, at the remembrance of that garden scene so long ago.

“Time has a cruel way of moving us around,” said I, snapping the clasps on my gloves, and pulling the fingers and looking everywhere but at her.  I was wondering if I should ever see her again.  “When is the coronation to take place?”

“In June.  The King does not wish to hurry me.  You see, I must learn to be a Princess first.  It was kind of him.  And you will be at Hohenphalia to witness the event?”

“If nothing happens.  We live in a continual uncertainty.”

She regarded me somewhat strangely.

“Is there a significance in that last sentence?”

“No,” I answered.  I felt compelled to add something.  “But here come some of your new admirers.  Their glittering medals will make me feel out of place if I remain.  I shall do my best to accept your invitation.”