“‘I want time to think it over,’ said she.  ’There is one thing certain; I will either fully forgive you, or I will never see your face again.  There will be no half-way business.  At half-past eight,’ she said, ’at exactly half-past eight you may be watching the middle upper window of the top floor.  If I decide to forgive I will hang out of that window a white silk scarf.  You will know by that that all is as was before, and you may come to me.  If you see no scarf you may consider that everything between us is ended forever.’  That,” concluded the young man bitterly, “is why I have been watching that clock.  The time for the signal to appear has passed twenty-three minutes ago.  Do you wonder that I am a little disturbed, my Prince of Rags and Whiskers?”

“Let me repeat to you,” said Prince Michael, in his even, well-modulated tones, “that women are the natural enemies of clocks.  Clocks are an evil, women a blessing.  The signal may yet appear.”

“Never, on your principality!” exclaimed the young man, hopelessly.  “You don’t know Marian—­of course.  She’s always on time, to the minute.  That was the first thing about her that attracted me.  I’ve got the mitten instead of the scarf.  I ought to have known at 8.31 that my goose was cooked.  I’ll go West on the 11.45 to-night with Jack Milburn.  The jig’s up.  I’ll try Jack’s ranch awhile and top off with the Klondike and whiskey.  Good-night—­er—­er—­Prince.”

Prince Michael smiled his enigmatic, gentle, comprehending smile and caught the coat sleeve of the other.  The brilliant light in the Prince’s eyes was softening to a dreamier, cloudy translucence.

“Wait,” he said solemnly, “till the clock strikes.  I have wealth and power and knowledge above most men, but when the clock strikes I am afraid.  Stay by me until then.  This woman shall be yours.  You have the word of the hereditary Prince of Valleluna.  On the day of your marriage I will give you $100,000 and a palace on the Hudson.  But there must be no clocks in that palace—­they measure our follies and limit our pleasures.  Do you agree to that?”

“Of course,” said the young man, cheerfully, “they’re a nuisance, anyway—­always ticking and striking and getting you late for dinner.”

He glanced again at the clock in the tower.  The hands stood at three minutes to nine.

“I think,” said Prince Michael, “that I will sleep a little.  The day has been fatiguing.”

He stretched himself upon a bench with the manner of one who had slept thus before.

“You will find me in this park on any evening when the weather is suitable,” said the Prince, sleepily.  “Come to me when your marriage day is set and I will give you a cheque for the money.”

“Thanks, Your Highness,” said the young man, seriously.  “It doesn’t look as if I would need that palace on the Hudson, but I appreciate your offer, just the same.”

Prince Michael sank into deep slumber.  His battered hat rolled from the bench to the ground.  The young man lifted it, placed it over the frowsy face and moved one of the grotesquely relaxed limbs into a more comfortable position.  “Poor devil!” he said, as he drew the tattered clothes closer about the Prince’s breast.