"Monsieur," said von Mitter, "you have lost your way. You can
not enter here."
"I?" a haughty, threatening expression on his pale face. "Are
you sure?"
Von Mitter fell back against the wall and all but lost hold of
his saber. "Your Highness?" he gasped, overcome.
"Even so!" said the prince. "The archbishop! the Marshal! Lead
me to them at once!"
Von Mitter was too much the soldier not to master his surprise
at once. He saluted, clicked his heels and limped toward the
throne room. He stopped at the threshold, saluted again, and, in
a voice full of quavers, announced:
"His Highness Prince Frederick of Carnavia."
He stepped aside, and the prince pushed past him into the throne
room. At this dramatic entrance there rose from the archbishop,
the Marshal, the princess, the Carnavian ambassador, from all
the court dignitaries, a cry of wonder and astonishment.
"His Highness!"
"Aye!" cried the prince, brokenly, for his joy at seeing the
princess nigh overcame him. "I have been a prisoner of Madame's,
who at this moment is marching on Bleiberg with an army four
thousand strong!" And stumblingly he related his misadventures.
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