Her Serene Highness the Princess Hildegarde was in Jericho, and Hillars along with her, where I had consigned them.

Next morning Gretchen waited upon me at breakfast.  She was quiet and answered my questions in monosyllables.  Presently she laid something at the side of my plate.  It was my pipe.  I looked at her, but the leads of my eyes could not plumb the depths in hers.

“Thanks,” said I.  “It dropped from my window last night, while I was playing the disgraceful part of eavesdropper.”  I dare say she had expected anything but this candid confession.  It was very cunning in me.  She knew that I knew she knew.  Had I lied I should have committed an irreparable blunder.

As it was she lifted her chin and laughed.

“Will you forgive me?”

“Yes; for you certainly wasted your time.”

“Yes, indeed; for I am just as much in the dark as ever.”

“And will remain so.”

“I hope so.  A mystery is charming while it lasts.  Really, Gretchen, I did not mean to play the listener, and I promise that from now on——­”

“From now on!” cried Gretchen.  “Does not Herr leave to-day?”

“No; I am going to spend a whole week here.”

There was a mixture of dismay and anger in her gaze.

“But, as I was going to say, I shall make no effort to pry into your affairs.  Honestly, I am a gentleman.”

“I shall try to believe you,” said she, the corners of her mouth broadening into a smile.

She condescended to show me through the rose gardens and tell me what she knew about them.  It was an interesting lecture.  And in the evening she permitted me to row her about the river.  We were getting on very well under the circumstances.

The week was soon gone, and Gretchen and I became very good friends.  Often when she had nothing to do we would wander along the river through the forests, always, I noticed, by a route which took us away from the village.  Each day I discovered some new accomplishment.  Sometimes I would read Heine or Goethe to her, and she would grow rapt and silent.  In the midst of some murmurous stanza I would suddenly stop, only to see her start and look at me as though I had committed a sacrilege, in that I had spoiled some dream of hers.  Then again I myself would become lost in dreams, to be aroused by a soft voice saying:  “Well, why do you not go on?” Two people of the opposite sexes reading poetry in the woods is a solemn matter.  This is not appreciated at the time, however.  It comes back afterward.

In all the week I had learned nothing except that Gretchen was not what she pretended to be.  But I feared to ask questions.  They might have spoiled all.  And the life was so new to me, so quiet and peaceful, with the glamour of romance over it all, that I believe I could have stayed on forever.  And somehow Phyllis was fading away, slowly but surely.  The regret with which I had heretofore looked upon