"I?" Gretchen drew closer to Hildegarde.
The duke studied the portrait of the mother and then the faces of these two girls. Both possessed a resemblance, only it seemed now that Gretchen was nearest to the portrait and Hildegarde nearest to the doubt.
"You say she wore the costume of a Gipsy child when you lost her?" said the duke.
"Yes." Von Arnsberg took from under his coat a small bundle which he opened with shaking fingers. He had been in the Krumerweg that afternoon.
"Why, those are mine!" exclaimed Gretchen excitedly.
"You see?" said Von Arnsberg. "Would you not like to be a princess, Gretchen?"
A princess? Gretchen's heart fluttered. A princess? She saw the king shaking the bars of his cell; she heard his voice calling out his love for her. A princess? She laid her head on Hildegarde's shoulder. She was weak, and this was some dream.
"But who, then, am I?" asked Hildegarde. There was no sign of weakness here.
Again there was no answer.
"Tell what you know," said Hans to the Gipsy. "Highness, he alone knows the man who brought about all this."