Her ring was answered by a man-servant,
“‘I BEG YOUR PARDON,’ HE SAID AGAIN.”
who explained that his young mistress had just gone down to the flower-market for a moment, and who ushered her into the large salon to wait.
Scarcely was she seated there when the bell rang again, and the servant opened the door to admit Harold. He had forgotten an important paper, and had come back for it in great haste. He knew that it was his part to avoid the princess in case she should have arrived; but concluding that she would, of course, be with Martha in her own rooms, he came directly into the salon, which was the nearest way of reaching his own apartment.
When he had entered, and the door was closed behind him, he took two or three steps forward, and then stopped as if petrified in his place.
The princess had risen to her feet, and stood confronting him, her face as pale and agitated as his own.
“I beg your pardon,” he said, taking off his hat mechanically; “did you, perhaps, wish to see me?”
“No,” she answered; “I wished to see your sister. She has gone across to the flower-market.”