"Your Majesty has summoned me?" said Gretchen.
"Yes. Explain," said the King to the Chancellor.
"Your Highness," began the Chancellor, "it has been proved by these
papers here and by that man there," pointing to the innkeeper, "that
your mother of lamented memory gave birth to twins. One is yourself;
the other was spirited away at the request of your mother. We shall
pass over her reasons. It was all due to the efforts of this clever
journalist here--" Gretchen was compelled to look at me now, while the
King frowned and the Prince smiled--"that your sister has been found."
Gretchen gave a cry and started to go to Phyllis with outstretched
arms; but as Phyllis stood motionless she stopped, and her arms fell.
"Your Highness," said the King to Phyllis, "it is your sister, the
Princess Hildegarde. Embrace her, I beg you."
The King willed it. But it occurred to me that there was a warmth
lacking in the embrace. Gretchen lightly brushed with her lips the
cheek of her sister, and the kiss was as lightly returned. There was
something about it all we men failed to understand.
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