He started for the Platz. "How
uncertain life is. It seems that I did not come to Bleiberg
carelessly in the way of amusement, but to work out a part of my
destiny." He arrested his steps at the fountain and listened to
the low, musical plash of the water, each drop of which fell
with the light of a dazzling jewel. The cold stars shone from
above. They were not farther away than she. A princess, a lonely
and forlorn princess, hemmed in by the fabric of royal laws; a
princess yet possessing less liberty than the meanest of her
peasants. Nothing belonged to her, not even her heart, which was
merchandise, a commodity of exchange, turned over to the highest
bidder. "Royalty," he mused, "is a political slave-dealer; the
slaves are those who wear the crowns."
Once inside the palace, he became a man of the world, polished,
nonchalant, handsome, and mildly curious. Immediately after the
usher announced his name, he crossed the chamber and presented
his respects to the prelate, who, he reasoned not unwisely,
expected him. The friendly greeting of the archbishop confirmed
this reasoning.
"I am delighted to see you, Monsieur," he said, showing his
remarkably well preserved teeth in the smile that followed his
words.
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