She had moved away, but now, as by an afterthought, turned back. “I may ask who has rendered me this service?”
“I am honoured, Princess. My name is Lieutenant Ludovic von Bertheim.”
“You live in this city?”
“No; I am at present a wanderer. My home is in Beroldstein.”
“Ah, in Beroldstein.” The name seemed to awaken thoughts which were hardly pleasant, but she dismissed them with a little inward careless laugh. “Well, good-night, Herr Lieutenant, and many thanks. I hope there is no need to ask you not to speak of this affair.”
Her manner was a curious mixture of coldness and a sense of duty which told her that she owed her defender some graciousness.
“There is no need, Princess,” he answered gravely. “You may trust my honour.”
For the first time there was manifest interest in the look which read his face. “I am sure of it. Again, good-night,” she said.
But he took a step after her. “Your Highness will not refuse my escort to the Palace. It is late and——”
She cut him short. “You are good, but an escort is unnecessary. It is not far, we are two, and we know our way.”