"I should be willing," I answered,
"if I should never be called upon to bear arms against the country in
which I was born."
"I should never ask you to do that," replied the King.
"No; His Majesty has too wholesome a respect for America," the
Chancellor interpolated.
"Prince," said the King, "go and finish your window panes."
The Chancellor meekly obeyed.
"This is your answer?" said the King to me.
"Yes, Your Majesty."
"Then marry the Princess Elizabeth," he said, tossing the missive to me.
"Yes, marry her," said the irrepressible Chancellor; "and some day the
King will put a medal on your breast and make you a baron of the realm.
Your Majesty, come and help me with this last pane."
The Princess Elizabeth? I glanced at the writing on the envelope. It
was Gretchen's. "And, Your Majesty," I read, "it is true that they
love each other. Permit them to be happy. I ask your forgiveness for
all the trouble I have caused you. I promise that from now on I shall
be the most obedient subject in all your kingdom. Hildegarde." I
dropped the letter on the table.
"Your Majesty," I began nervously, "there is some mistake.
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