‘The honour done me by the princess in visiting me is not to be known,’ I summoned energy enough to say.

She shook her head.

My father pledged himself to the hottest secresy, equivalent to a calm denial of the fact, if necessary.

‘Pray be at no trouble,’ she addressed him.

The ‘Where am I?’ look was painful in her aspect.

It led me to perceive the difference of her published position in visiting a duellist lover instead of one assassinated.  In the latter case, the rashness of an hereditary virgin princess avowing her attachment might pass condoned or cloaked by general compassion.  How stood it in the former?  I had dragged her down to the duellist’s level!  And as she was not of a nature to practise concealments, and scorned to sanction them, she was condemned, seeing that concealment as far as possible was imperative, to suffer bitterly in her own esteem.  This, the cruellest, was the least of the evils.  To keep our names disjoined was hopeless.  My weakened frame and mental misery coined tears when thoughts were needed.

Presently I found the room empty of our poor unconscious tormentor.  Ottilia had fastened her hand to mine again.

‘Be generous,’ I surprised her by saying.  ’Go back at once.  I have seen you!  Let my father escort you the road.  You will meet the margravine, or some one.  I think, with you, it will be the margravine, and my father puts her in good humour.  Pardon a wretched little scheme to save you from annoyance!  So thus you return within a day, and the margravine, shelters you.  Your name will not be spoken.  But go at once, for the sake of Prince Ernest.  I have hurt him already; help me to avoid doing him a mortal injury.  It was Schwartz who drove you? our old Schwartz!  Old Warhead!  You see, we may be safe; only every fresh minute adds to the danger.  And another reason for going-another—­’

‘Ah!’ she breathed, ‘my Harry will talk himself into a fever.’

‘I shall have it if the margravine comes here.’

‘She shall not be admitted.’

’Or if I hear her, or hear that she has come!  Consent at once, and revive me.  Oh!  I am begging you to leave me, and wishing it with all my soul.  Think over what I have done.  Do not write to me.  I shall see the compulsion of mere kindness between the lines.  You consent.  Your wisdom I never doubt—­I doubt my own.’

‘When it is yours you would persuade me to confide in?’ said she, with some sorrowful archness.

Wits clear as hers could see that I had advised well, except in proposing my father for escort.  It was evidently better that she should go as she came.