ght flashed into the
window. The Princess sat before me. There was a ringing in my ears,
and I breathed quickly. But I said no word; it was for her to speak
first.

"Monsieur is an American," she began. "The American is of a chivalric
race."

"That should be the aim of all men," I replied.

"But it is not so. Monsieur, I have been studying you for the past
week. To-night I place my honor and my fame in your hands; it is for
you to prove that you are a knight. I trust you. When I have said
what I shall say to you, you may withdraw or give me your aid, as you
please."

"I am grateful for your confidence, your Highness," said I. "What is
it that you wish me to do?"

"Have patience, monsieur, till the ride is done," she said. "Do not
speak again till I permit you. I must think."

The journey was accomplished in half an hour.

"It is here, monsieur, that we alight," she said as the carriage
stopped.

I was glad that her opera cloak was of dark material and that she wore
a veil.

The building before which we stood was on the outskirts of the city.
Far away to my left I could see the flickering lights of the palaces; a
yellowish haze hung over all. Once within the building I noted with
surprise the luxurious appointments. Plainly it was no common inn, a
resort for the middle and traveling classes; whether it was patronized
by the nobility I could only surmise.

"We shall continue to speak in French," she said, as she threw back her
cloak and lifted her veil. "Monsieur has probably heard that the
Princess Hildegarde is a creature of extravagant caprices; and he
expects an escapade."

"Your Highness wrongs me," I protested. "I am an obscure American;
your Highness does not share your--that is----"

I stopped, not wishing to give the term escapade to anything she might
do. As a matter of fact she has caused her royal guardian, the King,
no end of trouble. She went to Paris once unattended; at another time
she roamed around Heidelberg and slashed a fencing master; she had
donned a student's garb. She is said to be the finest swordswoman on
the Continent. Yet, notwithstanding her caprices, she is a
noble-minded woman. She does all these things called social vagaries
because she has a fine scorn for the innate hypocrisy of the social
organization of this country. She loves freedom not wisely but too
well. To go on:

"Monsieur wrongs me also," she said. "In what are termed my escapades
I am