"Go on."
"Ah, but it is unpleasant, Herr. You see, my wife and I were not on
the best of terms. She was handsome . . . a cousin of the late Prince.
. . . She left me more than twenty years ago. I have never seen her
since, and I trust that she is dead. She was her late Highness's
hair-dresser."
"And the Princess Hildegarde?"
"She is a woman for whom I would gladly lay down my life."
"Yes, yes!" I said impatiently. "Who made her the woman she is? Who
taught her to shoot and fence?"
"It was I."
"You?"
"Yes. From childhood she has been under my care. Her mother did so
desire. She is all I have in the world to love. And she loves me,
Herr; for in all her trials I have been her only friend. But why do
you ask these questions?" a sudden suspicion lighting his eyes.
"I love her."
He took me by the shoulders and squared me in front of him.
"How do you love her?" a glint of anger mingling with the suspicion.
"I love her as a man who wishes to make her his wife."
His hands trailed down my sleeves till they met and joined mine.
"I will tell you all there is to be told.
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