Highness!"

"Which way have you been riding?"

"Toward Jugendheit."

"And you are returning?" With a short nod of her head she signaled for
the two soldiers to fall back.

The two looked at each other embarrassedly.

"Pardon, Highness," said one of them, "but the orders of the duke will
not permit us to leave you. There have been thieves along the road of
late."

Thieves? This was the first time Carmichael had heard of it. The real
significance of the maneuver escaped him; but her highness was not
fooled.

"Very well," she replied. "One of you ride forward and one of you take
the rear." Then she spoke to Carmichael in English.

The soldiers shrugged. To them it did not matter what language her
highness adopted so long as they obeyed the letter of the duke's
instructions. The little cavalcade directed its course toward the city.

"You have not been riding of late," she said.

Then she had missed him. Carmichael's heart expanded. To be missed is to
be regretted, and one regrets only those in whom one is interested.

"I have ridden the same as usual, your Highness; only I have taken this
road for a change."

"Ah!" She patted the glistening neck of her mare. So he had purposely
tried to avoid her? Why? She stole a sly glance at him. Why were not
kings molded in this form? All the kings she had met had something the
matter with them, crooked legs, weak eyes, bald, young, or old, and daft
over gaming-tables and opera-dancers. And the one man among them all--at
least she had been informed that the king of Jugendheit was all of a
man--had politely declined. There was some chagrin in this for her, but
no bitterness or rancor. In truth, she was more chagrined on her
father's account than on her own.

"You should have taken the south pass. It was lovely yesterday."

"Perhaps this way has been wisest."

"Are you become afraid of me?" archly.

"Yes, your Highness." If he had looked at her instead of his horse's
ears, and smiled, all would have been well.

She instantly regretted the question. "I am sorry that I have become an
ogress."

"To me your highness is the most perfect of women. I am guilty of
lese-majesty."

"I shall not lock you up," she said, and added under her breath, "as my
good father would like to! Besides," she continued aloud, "I rather like
to set the court by the ears. Whoever heard of a serene highness doing
the things I do? I suppose it is because I have known years of freedom,
freedom