“There never will be a third,” I said.  “It is strange, is it not, when you think that there might have been—­but one?  You will give me a waltz to-night?”

“With pleasure.  Good morning.”

Pembroke and I passed down the broad stairs.  On the street we walked a block or so in silence.

Finally Pembroke said:  “What the deuce made you step on my foot?  And why does she not want me to know that she was in Vienna last winter?”

“Because,” said I, “Miss Landors never was in Vienna.”

“But, man, my eyes!”

“I do not care anything about your eyes.”

“What makes you so positive?”

“Knowledge.”

“Do you love her?” bluntly.

“No.”

“Because—?”

“There is another.  Pembroke, to-night will be pregnant with possibilities.  You will see the woman you love and the woman I love.”

“What do you mean?”

“Have you ever heard of her Serene Highness the Princess Hildegarde of Hohenphalia?”

“So high?”

“Yes.”

“Then the woman I saw in Vienna—­”

“Was the Princess.”

“But this remarkable likeness?”

“Perhaps I had best tell you all.”  And when I had done, his astonishment knew no bounds.

“Great George, that makes Miss Landors a Princess, too!”

“It does, truly.  Herein lies the evil of loving above one’s station.  In our country love is like all things, free to obtain.  We are in a country which is not free.  Here, those who appear to have the greatest liberty have the least.”

“And she knows nothing about it?”

“Nothing.”

“Why tell her?” he asked, fearful of his own love affair now.

“It is a duty.  Some day she might learn too late.  This afternoon I shall visit the Chancellor and place the matter before him and ask his assistance.  He must aid me to find the proofs.”

Pembroke began kicking the snow with his toes.

“I wish you had not told me, Jack.”

“It is for the best.  You and I are in the same boat; we ride or sink together.”

At luncheon his mind was absent and he ate but little.  And I ate less than he.  It was going to be very hard for me to meet Gretchen.

The Chancellor waved his hand toward a chair.  We were very good friends.

“What is it now?” he asked, smiling.  “I dare not stir up the antagonists against the government to give you a story, and aside from the antagonists it is dull.”

“I will find the story in the present instance,” said I. And in the fewest words possible I laid before him the object of my visit.

“This is a very strange story,” he said, making a pyramid of his fingers and contemplating the task with a careful air.  “Are you not letting your imagination run away with you?”

“Not for a moment.  I ask you to attend the ball at the American ministry this evening, and if the likeness between the two women does not convince you, the matter shall drop, so far as I am concerned.”