It is at this stage that a man who was to play such an important part in the Princess’s life first crosses her path—­one Domanski, a handsome young Pole, whose passionate and ill-fated patriotism had driven him from his native land to find an asylum, like many another Polish refugee, in the Limburg duchy.  He had heard much of the romantic story of the Princess Aly, and was drawn by sympathy, as by the rumour of her remarkable beauty, to seek an interview with her, during her visit to Mannheim.  Such a meeting could have but one issue for the romantic Pole.  He lost both head and heart at sight of the lovely and gracious Princess, and from that moment became the most devoted of all her slaves.

When she returned to Oberstein he was swift to follow her and to install himself under her castle walls, where he could catch an occasional glimpse of her, or, by good-fortune, have a few blissful moments in her company.  Indeed, it was not long before stories began to be circulated among the good folk of Oberstein of strange meetings between the mysterious young stranger who had come to live in their midst and an equally mysterious lady.  “The postman,” it was rumoured, “often sees him on the road leading to the castle, talking in a shadow with someone enveloped in a long, black, hooded cloak, whom he once thought he recognised as the Princess.”

No wonder tongues wagged in Oberstein.  What could be the meaning of these secret assignations between the Princess, who was the destined bride of their Duke, and the obscure young refugee?  It was a delicious bit of scandal to add to the many which had already gathered round the “adventuress.”

But there was a greater surprise in store for the Obersteiners, as for the world outside their walls.  Soon it began to be rumoured that the Duke’s bride-to-be was no obscure Circassian Princess; this was merely a convenient cloak to conceal her true identity, which was none less than that of daughter of an Empress!  She was, in fact, the child of Elizabeth, Tsarina of Russia, and her peasant husband, Razoum; and in proof of her exalted birth she actually had in her possession the will in which the late Empress bequeathed to her the throne of Russia.

How these rumours originated none seemed to know.  Was it Domanski who set them circulating?  We know, at least, that they soon became public property, and that, strangely enough, they won credence everywhere.  The very people who had branded her “adventuress” and hissed her in the streets, now raised cheers to the future Empress of Russia; while the Duke, delighted at such a wonderful transformation in the woman he loved, was more eager than ever to hasten the day when he could call her his own.  As for the Princess, she accepted her new dignities with the complaisance to be expected from the daughter of a Tsarina.  There was now no need to refer the sceptics to Circassia for proof of her station and her potential wealth.  As heiress to one of the greatest thrones of Europe, she could at last reveal herself in her true character, without any need for dissimulation.