"Gretchen--" I began.

"Gretchen?" The Princess laughed amusedly. "She is flown. I beg you
not to waste a thought on her memory."

Things were going badly for me. I did not understand the mood. It
brought to mind the woman poor Hillars had described to me in his rooms
that night in London. I saw that I was losing something, so I made
what I thought a bold stroke. I took from my pocket a withered rose.
I turned it from one hand to the other.

"It appears that when Gretchen gave me this it was as an emblem of her
love. Still, I gave her all my heart."

"If that be the emblem of her love, Herr, throw it away; it is not
worth the keeping."

"And Gretchen sent me a letter once," I went on.

"Ah, what indiscretion!"

"It began with 'I love you,' and ended with that sentence. I have worn
the writing away with my kisses."

"How some men waste their energies!"

"Your Highness," said I, putting the rose back into my pocket, "did
Gretchen ever tell you how she fought a duel for me because her life
was less to her than mine?"

The Princess Hildegarde's smile stiffened and her eyes closed for the
briefest instant.

"Ah, shall I ever forget that night!" said I. "I held her to my heart
and kissed her on the lips. I was supremely happy. Your Highness has
never known what a thing of joy it is to kiss the one you love. It is
one of those things which are denied to people who have their destinies
mapped out by human hands."