"It's Franz!" cried Beverly, rubbing her pretty eyes. Then she became thoroughly awake. "What are they doing to him? Who are those ruffians?" she demanded indignantly.
"They are my servants, and—"
"Shame on them! The wretches! What has old Franz done that they should—Call to them! Tell 'em you'll cut their heads off if they don't stop. He's a dear old fellow in spite of his rags, and he—"
The window-sash flew open and the tormentors in the court below were astonished by the sound of a woman's voice, coming, as it were, from the clouds. A dozen pairs of eyes were turned upward; the commotion ended suddenly. In the window above stood two graceful, white-robed figures. The sun, still far below the ridge of mountains, had not yet robbed the morning of the gray, dewy shadows that belong to five o'clock.
"What are you doing to that poor old man?" cried Yetive, and it was the first time any of them had seen anger in the princess's face. They slunk back in dismay. "Let him alone! You, Gartz, see that he has food and drink, and without delay. Report to me later on, sir, and explain, if you can, why you have conducted yourselves in so unbecoming a manner." Then the window was closed and the princess found herself in the warm arms of her friend.
"I couldn't understand a word you said, Yetive? but I knew you were giving it to them hot and heavy. Did you see how nicely old Franz bowed to you? Goodness, his head almost touched the ground."
"He was bowing to you, Beverly. You forgot that you are the princess to him."
"Isn't that funny? I had quite forgotten it—the poor old goose."
Later, when the coaches and escort were drawn up in front of the Rallowitz palace ready for the start, the princess called the chief postillion, Gartz, to the step of her coach.
"What was the meaning of the disturbance I witnessed this morning?" she demanded.