he enjoyed life too well. Ah, if only she might live and act like
those English cousins of hers with whom she went to school! _They_
could ride man-fashion, hunt man-fashion, shoot, play cards and bet at
the races man-fashion, and nobody threatened them with Doppelkinns.
They might dance, too, till the sun came into the windows and the rouge
on their faces cracked. But _she_! (I use the italics to illustrate
the decided nods of her pretty head.) Why, every sweet had to be
stolen!

She would never marry Doppelkinn--never. She would never watch his old
nose grow purple at the table. She would run away. And since Prince
Charming was nowhere to be seen, it were better to die an old maid.

Presently the smithy came into view, emerging from a cluster of
poplars. She rode up to the doors, dismounted and entered. Old Bauer
himself was at the bellows, and the weird blue light hissing up from
the blown coals discovered another customer. She turned and met his
frank glance of admiration. (If she hadn't turned! If his admiration
hadn't been entirely frank!) Instantly she sent Bauer a warning glance
which that old worthy seemed immediately to understand. The stranger
was tall, well-made, handsome, with yellow hair, and eyes as blue as
the sky is when the west wind blows.

He raised his cap, and the heart of the girl fluttered. Wherever had
this seemly fellow come from?

"Good morning," said the stranger courteously. "I see that you have
had the same misfortune as myself."

"You have lost a shoe? Rather annoying, when one doesn't want a single
break in the going." She uttered the words carelessly, as if she
wasn't at all interested.

The stranger stuffed his cap into a pocket. She was glad that she had
chosen the new saddle. The crest and coat of arms had not yet been
burned upon the leather nor engraved upon the silver ornaments, and
there was no blanket under the English saddle. There might be an
adventure; one could not always tell. She must hide her identity. If
the stranger knew that she belonged to the House of Barscheit, possibly
he would be frightened and take to his heels.

But the Princess Hildegarde did not know that this stranger never took
to his heels; he wasn't that kind. Princess or peasant, it would have
been all the same to him. Only his tone might have lost half a key.

Bauer called to his assistant, and the girl stepped out into the road.
The stranger followed, as she knew he wou