"I am a blind
owl; I had misread you strangely. And yet remember this: a sprint is one
thing, and to run all day another. For I still mistrust your
constitution; the short nose, the hair and eyes of several complexions;
no, they are diagnostic; and I must end, I see, as I began."

"I am still a singing chambermaid?" said Otto.

"Nay, your Highness, I pray you to forget what I had written," said Sir
John; "I am not like Pilate; and the chapter is no more. Bury it, if you
love me."

CHAPTER IV

WHILE THE PRINCE IS IN THE ANTE-ROOM....

Greatly comforted by the exploits of the morning, the Prince turned
towards the Princess's ante-room, bent on a more difficult enterprise.
The curtains rose before him, the usher called his name, and he entered
the room with an exaggeration of his usual mincing and airy dignity.
There were about a score of persons waiting, principally ladies; it was
one of the few societies in Gruenewald where Otto knew himself to be
popular; and while a maid of honour made her exit by a side door to
announce his arrival to the Princess, he moved round the apartment,
collecting homage and bestowing compliments with friendly grace. Had
this been the sum of his duties, he had been an admirable monarch. Lady
after lady was impartially honoured by his attention.

"Madam," he said to one, "how does this happen? I find you daily more
adorable."

"And your Highness daily browner," replied the lady. "We began equal;
oh, there I will be bold: we have both beautiful complexions. But while
I study mine, your Highness tans himself."

"A perfect negro, madam; and what so fitly--being beauty's slave?" said
Otto.--"Madame Grafinski, when is our next play? I have just heard that
I am a bad actor."

"_O ciel!_" cried Madame Grafinski. "Who could venture? What a bear!"

"An excellent man, I can assure you," returned Otto.

"O, never! O, is it possible!" fluted the lady. "Your Highness plays
like an angel."

"You must be right, madam; who could speak falsely and yet look so
charming?" said the Prince. "But this gentleman, it seems, would have
preferred me playing like an actor."

A sort of hum, a falsetto, feminine cooing, greeted the tiny sally; and
Otto expanded like a peacock. This warm atmosphere of women and flattery
and idle chatter pleased him to the marrow.

"Madame von Eisenthal, your coiffure is delicious," he remarked.

"Everyone was saying so," said one.

"If I have pleased Prince Char