"What! She enters the palace without any more trouble than this?"
"By my orders, father," said Hildegarde, who gathered that this privileged visitor must be Gretchen of the Krumerweg. "Admit her."
"Truly we are becoming socialists," said the duke, appealing to Herbeck, who replied with his usual grim smile.
Gretchen was ushered in. Her throat was a little full as she recognized the three most important persons in the grand duchy. Outwardly she was composed. She made a curtsy to which the duke replied with his most formal bow of state. The sparkle of amusement was in his eyes.
"The little goose-girl!" he said half-audibly.
"Yes, Highness." Gretchen's face was serious and her eyes were mournful. She carried an envelope in her hand tightly.
"Come to me, Gretchen," said the princess.
"What is it?"
Gretchen's eyes roamed undecidedly from the duke to Herbeck.
"She is dead, Highness, and I found this letter under her pillow."