“You may go,” he said.  He drew a chair from the table and asked the princess to be seated.  She ignored his request.

“What do you wish of me?” she asked.  She was looking straight into his eyes.  The officer had withdrawn and closed the door after him.  They were alone, with nothing to fear; yet she did not recognize him.

“You are the king,” she continued in cold, level tones, “but if you are also a gentleman, you will at once order me returned to my father at Lustadt, and with me the man to whom you owe so much.  I do not expect it of you, but I wish to give you the chance.

“I shall not go without him.  I am betrothed to you; but until tonight I should rather have died than wed you.  Now I am ready to compromise.  If you will set Mr. Custer at liberty in Serbia and return me unharmed to my father, I will fulfill my part of our betrothal.”

Barney Custer looked straight into the girl’s face for a long moment.  A half smile played upon his lips at the thought of her surprise when she learned the truth, when suddenly it dawned upon him that she and he were both much safer if no one, not even her loyal self, guessed that he was other than the king.  It is not difficult to live a part, but often it is difficult to act one.  Some little word or look, were she to know that he was Barney Custer, might betray them; no, it was better to leave her in ignorance, though his conscience pricked him for the disloyalty that his act implied.

It seemed a poor return for her courage and loyalty to him that her statement to the man she thought king had revealed.  He marveled that a Von der Tann could have spoken those words—­a Von der Tann who but the day before had refused to save her father’s life at the loss of the family honor.  It seemed incredible to the American that he had won such love from such a woman.  Again came the mighty temptation to keep the crown and the girl both; but with a straightening of his broad shoulders he threw it from him.

She was promised to the king, and while he masqueraded in the king’s clothes, he at least would act the part that a king should.  He drew a folded paper from his inside pocket and handed it to the girl.

“Here is the American’s pardon,” he said, “drawn up and signed by the king’s own hand.”

She opened it and, glancing through it hurriedly, looked up at the man before her with a questioning expression in her eyes.

“You came, then,” she said, “to a realization of the enormity of your ingratitude?”

The man shrugged.

“He will never die at my command,” he said.

“I thank your majesty,” she said simply.  “As a Von der Tann, I have tried to believe that a Rubinroth could not be guilty of such baseness.  And now, tell me what your answer is to my proposition.”

“We shall return to Lustadt tonight,” he replied.  “I fear the purpose of Prince Peter.  In fact, it may be difficult—­even impossible—­for us to leave Blentz; but we can at least make the attempt.”