Part 2 (2/2)
”No, I will return to my Kingdom.”
”And what wilt thou do there?”
”I will weep,” she answered.
She danced a measure with Prince Hugh and a measure with Prince Richard; then she saw that though Prince Merlin was in white satin and gold he did not dance, but stood alone by the orange-tree.
When she was free she sent a herald to fetch him, for now she desired no longer to play a part, but to be herself. He came slowly to where she stood, and bowed before her in silence.
”Tell me, Prince Merlin,” she said, ”if you agree with these courtiers that to-night I am become a princess?”
”I do not agree with them,” he answered. ”Clothes do not make a princess.”
Then they looked at each other. ”Will you meet me,” she said, ”on the edge of the wild forest in half an hour's time?”
”I am your servant,” he replied.
She stole away to her rooms, where the moonlight lay athwart the tessellated marble floor, and opened the cas.e.m.e.nt and placed the lamp there, which was to be the signal for her attendants to have her horses ready on the edge of the wild forest. Then she put on the gown she had worn as a beggar-girl, and her wooden shoes, and let her hair down over her shoulders.
The way to the wild forest was haunted with shadows and little fleeing things; and the night-owls called, but she remembered the look in Merlin's eyes, and conquered her fears.
And there he was waiting, with the moonlight gleaming on his white satin; and his face turned to the path up which she came.
She held out her hand to him with the blue velvet glove upon it, and she said softly, ”Will you look into my mirror, Prince Merlin?”
”I am your servant,” he said again, then looked.
His eyes became full of light. ”I see your face,” he cried; and sank upon one knee. She gave him both her hands.
”What am I to you?” she asked. ”A princess?”
”No,” he whispered.
”A beggar-girl?”
”No,” he whispered.
”What then?”
”Thou art my love.”
Then all the birds in all the world sang in her heart. ”Tell me,” she said, ”why, then, didst thou sink thy ball?”
”That no hands should ever touch it after thine.”
”And why didst thou say when thou didst lead me in to dinner, that thou wast sorry not for me, but for thyself?”
”I feared that thou wouldst never love me.”
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