Then ensued for her the successive shocks of discernment.  She knew the to have some of the vices, many follies, all the intemperateness of men who carve a way for themselves in the common roads, if barely they do that.  And resembling common men (men, in a judgement elective as hers, common, however able), I was not assuredly to be separated by her from my associations; from the thought of my father, for example.  Her look at him in the lake-palace library, and her manner in unfolding and folding his recent letter to her, and in one or two necessitated allusions, embraced a kind of grave, pitiful humour, beyond smiles or any outward expression, as if the acknowledgement that it was so quite obliterated the wonder that it should be so—­that one such as he could exercise influence upon her destiny.  Or she may have made her reckoning generally, not personally, upon our human destinies:  it is the more likely, if, as I divine, the calm oval of her lifted eyelids contemplated him in the fulness of the recognition that this world, of which we hope unuttered things, can be shifted and swayed by an ignis-fatuus.  The father of one now seen through, could hardly fail of being transfixed himself.  It was horrible to think of.  I would rather have added a vice to my faults than that she should have penetrated him.

Nearing the island, I was reminded of the early morning when I landed on the Flemish flats.  I did not expect a similar surprise, but before my rowers had pulled in, the tall beaconhead of old Schwartz notified that his mistress might be abroad.  Janet walked with her.  I ran up the steps to salute them, and had Ottilia’s hand in mine.

‘Prince Ernest has arrived?’

‘My father came yesterday evening.’

‘Do you leave to-day?’

‘I cannot tell; he will decide.’

It seemed a good omen, until I scanned Janet’s sombre face.

‘You will not see us out for the rest of the day, Harry,’ said she.

‘That is your arrangement?’

‘It is.’

‘Your own?’

‘Mine, if you like.’

There was something hard in her way of speaking, as though she blamed me, and the princess were under her protection against me.  She vouchsafed no friendly significance of look and tone.

In spite of my readiness to criticize her (which in our language means condemn) for always assuming leadership with whomsoever she might be, I was impressed by the air of high-bred friendliness existing between her and the princess.  Their interchange was pleasant to hear.  Ottilia had caught the spirit of her frank manner of speech; and she, though in a less degree, the princess’s fine ease and sweetness.  They conversed, apparently, like equal minds.  On material points, Janet unhesitatingly led.  It was she who brought the walk to a close.

’Now, Harry, you had better go and have a little sleep.  I should like to speak to you early.’

Ottilia immediately put her hand out to me.