CHAPTER IX.
The Princess Hilda opened her eyes wearily. She had slept for several hours, but her first sensation as she woke was one of utter misery. Sleep had brought with it no refreshment, no exhilaration. The mere joy of living, that so often thrilled her in the morning, she seemed to have lost forever. The twilight that reigned in this subterranean apartment, the sudden recollection of the grim disasters of the previous day, the discomfort that resulted from sleeping fully dressed, and the sensation of utter loneliness that came over her, combined to render her awakening painful. She turned impatiently upon her couch. Suddenly a smile of joy lighted her sad face. Fraulein Müller, her favorite attendant, a plump, red-cheeked young woman of twenty, was seated by her side.
“Good morning, your highness,” cried the maiden cheerily. “You seem glad to see me.”
“I am indeed,” said the princess warmly. “This has been, Gretchen, oh, such an awful night! I feel as if, somehow, my youth had gone forever; that I shall always be an old, old woman.”
Fraulein Müller laughed gayly. “It is not so bad as that, my princess. Lie quiet for a while and I will make you young again. See, I have brought with me many things that you need. I was heart-broken until Cousin Fritz, who can crawl through cracks in the floor or fly through the ceiling, stood suddenly by my side and told me to dry my tears and make ready to attend you. There were wild doings in the castle last night, and I sat with the other women in your apartments trembling at the awful sounds we heard. When Cousin Fritz appeared and told us that you were safe, we took him in our arms and kissed him until he kicked and swore and called us hard names. Then we dropped the wicked little angel and I got a few of your things into a bundle and followed him into the bowels of the earth. It wasn’t much fun, your highness, to creep through the darkness with that crazy little villain at my side, laughing wildly at my fears and pinching me now and then to hear me cry out with fright. But when I saw you lying here alone, I felt that I could hug Cousin Fritz. His head is queer enough, but he has a heart of gold.”
As she thus talked on, while she loosened the Princess Hilda’s hair and brushed out the golden-brown locks, the feeling of despair that had come over the royal fugitive departed. The princess was by temperament a sanguine, sunny-natured girl, cold and haughty toward those she could not trust, but cordially affectionate with her intimates. Her attendants had been recruited from the best families in the kingdom, and it was known throughout Hesse-Heilfels that the Princess Hilda, in spite of her proud bearing, was a very lovable creature.
“Tell me, Gretchen,” she said, glancing anxiously at Fraulein Müller, who was at that moment spreading a morning dress upon the bed, “tell me what has happened up above? Are the people—my people, as I loved to call them—really thirsting for my blood?”
Fraulein Müller laughed aloud. She was one of those rare creatures whose gayety cannot be suppressed by the most dismal surroundings.
“It was rumored when I came away, your royal highness, that your Uncle Wilhelm was bitterly disappointed at your disappearance. He is, it is said, anxious to get word to you that his plans did not include any change in your status at court. He has spread abroad the impression that he has deposed King Rudolph simply to save Hesse-Heilfels from ruin. He has no intention, it is reported, of altering your position in the kingdom. Somebody told me that he had made the remark that your uncle would still be king, but sane instead of mad.”