`It is long, madam,' said he, `since it was bolted on the other side.'

`One was effectual,' returned the Princess. `Is this all?'

`Shall I reconduct you?' he asking, bowing.

`I should prefer,' she asked, in ringing tones, `the conduct of the Freiherr von Gondremark.'

Otto summoned the chamberlain. `If the Freiherr von Gondremark is in the palace,' he said, `bid him attend the Princess here.' And when the official had departed, `Can I do more to serve you, madam?' the Prince asked.

`Thank you, no. I have been much amused,' she answered.

`I have now,' continued Otto, `given you your liberty complete. This has been for you a miserable marriage.'

`Miserable!' said she.

`It has been made light to you; it shall be lighter still,' continued the Prince. `But one thing, madam, you must still continue to bear -- my father's name, which is now yours. I leave it in your hands. Let me see you, since you will have no advice of mine, apply the more attention of your own to bear it worthily.'

`Herr von Gondremark is long in coming,' she remarked.

`O Seraphina, Seraphina!' he cried. And that was the end of their interview.

She tripped to a window and looked out; and a little after, the chamberlain announced the Freiherr von Gondremark, who entered with something of a wild eye and changed complexion, confounded, as he was, at this unusual summons. The Princess faced round from the window with a pearly smile; nothing but her heightened colour spoke of discomposure.

Otto was pale, but he was otherwise master of himself.

`Herr von Gondremark,' said he, `oblige me so far: reconduct the Princess to her own apartment.'

The Baron, still all at sea, offered his hand, which was smilingly accepted, and the pair sailed forth through the picture-gallery.

As soon as they were gone, and Otto knew the length and breadth of his miscarriage, and how he had done the contrary of all that he intended, he stood stupefied. A fiasco so complete and sweeping was laughable, even to himself; and he laughed aloud in his wrath. Upon this mood there followed the sharpest violence of remorse; and to that again, as he recalled his provocation, anger succeeded afresh. So he was tossed in spirit; now bewailing his inconsequence and lack of temper, now flaming up in white-hot indignation and a noble pity for himself.

He paced his apartment like a leopard. There was danger in Otto, for a flash. Like a pistol, he could kill at one moment, and the next he might he kicked aside. But just then, as he walked the long floors in his alternate humours, tearing his handkerchief between his hands, he was strung to his top note, every nerve attent. The pistol, you might say, was charged. And when jealousy from time to time fetched him a lash across the tenderest of his feeling, and sent a string of her fire-pictures glancing before his mind's eye, the contraction of his face was even dangerous. He disregarded jealousy's inventions, yet they stung. In this height of anger, he still preserved his faith in Seraphina's innocence; but the thought of her possible misconduct was the bitterest ingredient in his pot of sorrow.

There came a knock at the door, and the chamberlain brought him a note. He took it and ground it in his hand, continuing his march, continuing his bewildered thoughts; and some minutes had gone by before