rom his native land to find an asylum, like many another Polish
refugee, in the Limburg duchy. He had heard much of the romantic story
of the Princess Aly, and was drawn by sympathy, as by the rumour of her
remarkable beauty, to seek an interview with her, during her visit to
Mannheim. Such a meeting could have but one issue for the romantic Pole.
He lost both head and heart at sight of the lovely and gracious
Princess, and from that moment became the most devoted of all her
slaves.

When she returned to Oberstein he was swift to follow her and to install
himself under her castle walls, where he could catch an occasional
glimpse of her, or, by good-fortune, have a few blissful moments in her
company. Indeed, it was not long before stories began to be circulated
among the good folk of Oberstein of strange meetings between the
mysterious young stranger who had come to live in their midst and an
equally mysterious lady. "The postman," it was rumoured, "often sees him
on the road leading to the castle, talking in a shadow with someone
enveloped in a long, black, hooded cloak, whom he once thought he
recognised as the Princess."

No wonder tongues wagged in Oberstein. What could be the meaning of
these secret assignations between the Princess, who was the destined
bride of their Duke, and the obscure young refugee? It was a delicious
bit of scandal to add to the many which had already gathered round the
"adventuress."

But there was a greater surprise in store for the Obersteiners, as for
the world outside their walls. Soon it began to be rumoured that the
Duke's bride-to-be was no obscure Circassian Princess; this was merely
a convenient cloak to conceal her true identity, which was none less
than that of daughter of an Empress! She was, in fact, the child of
Elizabeth, Tsarina of Russia, and her peasant husband, Razoum; and in
proof of her exalted birth she actually had in her possession the will
in which the late Empress bequeathed to her the throne of Russia.

How these rumours originated none seemed to know. Was it Domanski who
set them circulating? We know, at least, that they soon became public
property, and that, strangely enough, they won credence everywhere. The
very people who had branded her "adventuress" and hissed her in the
streets, now raised cheers to the future Empress of Russia; while the
Duke, delighted at such a wonderful transformation in the woman he
loved, was more eager than ever to hasten the da