ph.

"Upon my honour," he replied.

"Shall I ask the crown?" she continued. "Nay; what should I do with it?
Gruenewald is but a petty state; my ambition swells above it. I shall
ask--I find I want nothing," she concluded. "I will give you something
instead. I will give you leave to kiss me--once."

Otto drew near, and she put up her face; they were both smiling, both on
the brink of laughter, all was so innocent and playful; and the Prince,
when their lips encountered, was dumfoundered by the sudden convulsion
of his being. Both drew instantly apart, and for an appreciable time sat
tongue-tied. Otto was indistinctly conscious of a peril in the silence,
but could find no words to utter. Suddenly the Countess seemed to awake.
"As for your wife----" she began in a clear and steady voice.

The word recalled Otto, with a shudder, from his trance. "I will hear
nothing against my wife," he cried wildly; and then, recovering himself
and in a kindlier tone, "I will tell you my one secret," he added. "I
love my wife."

"You should have let me finish," she returned, smiling. "Do you suppose
I did not mention her on purpose? You know you had lost your head. Well,
so had I. Come now, do not be abashed by words," she added somewhat
sharply. "It is the one thing I despise. If you are not a fool, you will
see that I am building fortresses about your virtue. And at any rate, I
choose that you shall understand that I am not dying of love for you. It
is a very smiling business; no tragedy for me! And now here is what I
have to say about your wife: she is not and she never has been
Gondremark's mistress. Be sure he would have boasted if she had.
Good-night!"

And in a moment she was gone down the alley, and Otto was alone with the
bag of money and the flying god.

CHAPTER X

GOTTHOLD'S REVISED OPINION; AND THE FALL COMPLETED

The Countess left poor Otto with a caress and buffet simultaneously
administered. The welcome word about his wife and the virtuous ending of
his interview should doubtless have delighted him. But for all that, as
he shouldered the bag of money and set forward to rejoin his groom, he
was conscious of many aching sensibilities. To have gone wrong and to
have been set right makes but a double trial for man's vanity. The
discovery of his own weakness and possible unfaith had staggered him to
the heart; and to hear, in the same hour, of his wife's fidelity from
one who loved her not, increased the bitter