"Oh!" she exclaimed, "I am late. I must hasten. Good-bye, mon Capitaine; you have been very kind."
She drew off her gauntlet and extended her hand. I bent and kissed,—possibly too lingeringly,—the little fingers.
"Farewell, Princess," I said. And then, half under my breath, I added: "Till we meet again."
She heard, and again that smile. "'Auf Wiedersehen' be it," she answered.
Then she rode away.
I leaned against my horse's shoulder and watched her as she went slowly down the hill, the full glory of the sinking sun upon her, and the shadows of the great trees close on either side. Presently there came a bend in the road and, turning in the saddle, she waved her hand.
I answered with my hat. Then she was gone. That was how I met the Princess Royal of Valeria. And, unless she has told it (which, somehow, I doubt), none knows it but ourselves. I had never seen her since. Perhaps that is why I was quite content for Courtney to win his bet. Truly, a man's heart does not age with his hair.