The Princess was waiting for them when they arrived at the hotel. It was characteristic of her to treat her inferiors with as much deference as her equals, and since the nurse had obtained the promise of this favour, she would not stint the measure of her goodwill. A substantial repast had been prepared for them in her private sitting-room; and with her own hands she ministered to their wants. Yet if at home in Felsen-Schvoenig her husband had asked for such an attention, she would have replied that she was not a serving-maid. She was indeed a mixture of perversity, but a sweet woman withal. “Tom does not look so well to-day,” she observed, as she coaxed him to eat. “Do you think the journey has been too much for him, Anne?” Anne was not sure, but she thought he must have benefited by the lovely drive. “If your Highness will allow me to feed him, I think he will get on better,” she suggested cheerfully, and held the spoon to his lips as though he had been a child. The meal over, they re-entered the little carriage, and prepared to start for the wonderful cave. Standing under the stone portico, the Princess wished them farewell. “I shall think of you to-night,” she said, with a smile of encouragement. “I hope the cure will work.” “If God will,” was the nurse’s rejoinder. “I thank your Highness for the great help you have given me.” But the Princess would not receive her gratitude. “I will send the carriage for you at dawn,” she called out, as the coachman took up the reins; and then again wishing luck to the venture, she disappeared from view.