I hesitated.  To tell her what the dream Princess had said would undo all I had thus far accomplished, which was too little.

“It will not interest Your Highness,” said I.

“Tell me what she said; I command it!” And now I was sure that there was a falter in her voice.

“She said—­she said that she loved me.”

“Continue.”

“And that, as she was a Princess and—­and honor bound, it could never be.”  I had to say it.

“That is it; that is it.  It could never be.  Gretchen is no more.  The Princess who, you say, came to you in a dream was then but a woman—­”

“Aye, and such a woman!” I interrupted.  “As God hears me, I would give ten years of my life to hold her again in my arms, to kiss her lips, to hear her say that she loved me.  But, pardon me, what were you going to say?”

“Your dream Princess was but a woman—­ah, well; this is Tuesday; Thursday at noon she will wed the Prince.  It is written.”

“The devil!” I let slip.  I was at the start again.

“Sir, you do him injustice.”

“Who?—­the Prince?” savagely.

“No; the—­the devil!” She had fully recovered, and I had no weapon left.

“Gretchen, did you really ever love me?”

There was no answer.

“No; I do not believe you did.  If you had loved me, what to you would have been a King, a Prince, a principality?  If you broke that promise who would be wronged?  Not the King, not the Prince.”

“No, I should not have wronged them, but,” said the Princess rising, “I should have wronged my people whom I have sworn to protect; I should have wronged my own sense of honor; I should have broken those ties which I have sworn to hold dear and precious as my life; I should have forsaken a sacred duty for something I was not sure of—­a man’s love!”

“Gretchen!”

“Am I cruel?  Look!” Phyllis stood at the other end of the conservatory.  “Does not there recur to you some other woman you have loved?  You start.  Come; was not your love for Gretchen pique?  Who is she who thus mirrors my own likeness?  Whoever she is, she loves you!  Let us return; I shall be missed.”  It was not the woman but the Princess who spoke.

“You are breaking two hearts!” I cried, my voice full of disappointment, passion and anger.

“Two?  Perhaps; but yours will not be counted.”

“You are—­”

“Pray, do not lose your temper,” icily; and she swept toward the entrance.

I had lost.

As the Princess drew near to Phyllis the brown eyes of the one met the blue-green eyes of the other.  There was almost an exclamation on Phyllis’s lips; there was almost a question on Gretchen’s; both paled.  Phyllis understood, but Gretchen did not, why the impulse to speak came.  Then the brown eyes of Phyllis turned their penetrating gaze to my own eyes, which I was compelled to shift.  I bowed, and the Princess and I passed on.