“There’s not a word of truth in what you say.”

“What!—­you deny it?  The Lady Blankenswerd, the Marshal’s lady, was an eye-witness of it all, and she has told me every circumstance.”

“She has told your grace a fancy tale—­I have had nothing to do with it; if you made an ass of yourself in the baker’s cellar, that was your own fault.”

“I ask, once more, will you give me satisfaction?  If not, I will expose you.  Follow me instantly to the King.  You shall either fight with me, or—­go to his Majesty.”

Philip was nonplussed.  “Your grace,” he said, “I have no wish either to fight with you or to go to the King.”

This was indeed the truth, for he was afraid he should be obliged to unmask, and would be punished, of course, for the part he had played.  He therefore tried to get off by every means, and watched the door to seize a favorable moment for effecting his escape.  The Duke, on the other hand, observed the uneasiness of the Prince (as he thought him), and waxed more valorous every minute.  At last he seized poor Philip by the arm, and was dragging him into the hall.

“What do you want with me?” said Philip, sorely frightened, and shook off the Duke.

“To the King.  He shall hear how shamefully you insult a guest at his court.”

“Very good,” replied Philip, who saw no hope of escape, except by continuing the character of the Prince.  “Very good.  Come, then, I am ready.  By good luck I happen to have the agreement with me between you and the baker’s daughter, in which you promise—­”

“Nonsense! stuff!” answered the Duke, “that was only a piece of fun, which may be allowed surely with a baker’s daughter.  Show it if you like, I will explain all that.”

But it appeared that the Duke was not quite so sure of the explanation, for he no longer urged Philip to go before the King.  He, however, insisted more earnestly than ever on getting into his carriage, and going that moment—­Heaven knows where—­to decide the matter with sword and pistol, an arrangement which did not suit our watchman at all.  Philip pointed out the danger and consequences of such a proceeding, but the Duke overruled all objections.  He had made every preparation, and when it was over he would leave the city that same night.

“If you are not the greatest coward in Europe, you will follow me to the carriage—­Prince!”

“I—­am—­no—­prince,” at last stuttered Philip, now driven to extremities.

“You are!  Everybody recognized you at the ball.  I know you by your hat.  You sha’n’t escape me.”

Philip lifted up his mask, and showed the Duke his face.

“Now, then, am I a prince?”

Duke Herrman, when he saw the countenance of a man he had never seen before, started back, and stood gazing as if he had been petrified.  To have revealed his secrets to a perfect stranger!  ’T was horrible beyond conception!  But before he had recovered from his surprise, Philip had opened the door and effected his escape.