I do not
love Her Highness the Princess Elizabeth."
The King and his Chancellor whirled around. The decorations on the
panes remained unfinished. The King regarded me with true anger, and
the Chancellor with dismay.
"I love the Princess Hildegarde," I went on in a hollow voice.
"Is this a jest?" demanded the King.
"No; on my honor." For once I forgot court etiquette, and left off
"Your Majesty."
"Let me see the letter," said the Chancellor, with a pacific purpose.
"There is some misunderstanding here." He read the letter and replaced
it on the table--and went back to his window.
"Well?" cried the King, impatiently.
"I forgot, Your Majesty," said the Chancellor.
"Forgot what?"
"The letter was written by a woman. I remember when I was a boy," went
on the Chancellor tranquilly, "I used to take great pleasure in drawing
pictures on frosted window panes. Women always disturbed me."
"Perhaps, Your Majesty," said I, "it is possible that Her
Highness . . . the likeness between her and her sister . . . perhaps,
knowing that I have known Her Highness Phyllis .
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