“Rest assured that I shall return to the city as I came—­in a carriage.  And to be honest, I am anxious to see the Count von Walden, who poses as the Princess’s watchdog.”

And when he came back and found me still sitting on the pallet, his face cleared.

We played for small sums, and the morning passed away rather pleasantly than otherwise.  The young officer explained to me that he held an important position at court, and that he was entitled to prefix Baron to his name.

“The King is getting out of all patience with her Highness,” he said.  “This makes the second time the marriage has been postponed.  Such occurrences are extremely annoying to his Majesty, who does not relish having his commands so flagrantly disregarded.  I shouldn’t be surprised if he forced her into the marriage.”

“When he knows how distasteful this marriage is to her, why does he not let the matter go?”

“It is too late now.  Royalty, having given its word, never retracts it.  Events which the King wills must come to pass, or he loses a part of his royal dignity.  And then, a King cannot very well be subservient to the will of a subject.”

“But has she no rights as a petty sovereign?” I asked.

“Only those which the King is kind enough to give her.  She is but a tenant:  the rulers of Hohenphalia are but guests of his Majesty.  It is to be regretted, but it cannot be helped.”

That afternoon, as I lay on my pallet, it seemed to me that in some unaccountable way I was destined to become concerned in the affairs of her Serene Highness.  I had never seen the woman, not even a picture of her.  Certainly, she must be worth loving, inasmuch as she was worth trouble.  I have always found it to be the troublesome woman who has the largest train of lovers.  Troublesome, they are interesting; interesting, they are lovable.

It was more than a year since last I saw Phyllis; yet my love for her knew no diminution.  I began to understand why Hillars traveled all over the Continent to get a glimpse of the woman he loved.  With the pleasant thought that I should see Phyllis again, I dozed.  I was half asleep when I was aroused by loud voices in the corridor.

“But I do not believe him to be the man,” I heard my jailer declare.

“Bah!  I know there is no mistake,” roared a voice which was accustomed to command.  “He’s been trying to hoodwink you.  Watch the surprise in his face when he sees me, the cursed meddler and scribbler.  It would be a pleasure to witness his hanging.  Come, show him to me.”

“Yes; come along, my dear old warhorse,” I murmured, turning my face toward the wall.  “There is a nice little surprise party in here waiting for you.”

The door opened.

“Unlocked!” bawled the Count.  “What does this mean, Baron?”

“He gave his word as a gentleman,” was the quiet reply.

“Gentleman?  Ach!  I’ll take a look at the gentleman,” said the Count, stepping up to the pallet and shaking me roughly by the shoulder.  “Wake up!”