"In a moment, madame," said he. "Before I go, I have an apology to make and a pardon to crave." "Of whom?" demanded the duchess. For answer, the Prince turned to Susie, so near that he almost touched her--so near that she could see the trembling of his hands, the throbbing of his heart. "Miss Rushford," he said, in a voice low, carefully repressed, but vibrant with emotion, "I know that I have played the scoundrel; I know that I have no right whatever to address you; I know that I have done everything I could to forfeit your respect. Believe me, the cup is bitter--the more so, since I myself prepared it!" His voice was trembling so that for the moment he could not go on. "No, no!" cried the duchess, from the door, "you wrong yourself, Fritz. It was I prepared it--it is I who am to blame!" But he motioned her to silence. "It was I prepared it," he repeated, "by my unjust suspicions and ungentlemanly action. I shall drain it with what manhood I have. And I hope, mademoiselle, that you will, in time, find it in your heart to pardon me and to think of me with kindness. I can only repeat to you what I have already told your father--that I love you truly and deeply--with my whole heart--as I shall always love you--always--Oh, if I had not been a fool!" The duchess, looking on from the door, felt a sudden wave of tenderness sweep over her. Perhaps she recalled her own youth--perhaps it was not quite the truth that she had never regretted--perhaps she was softened by the emotions of the moment. She came to Susie and took her hand in hers. "Mademoiselle," she said, softly, "I also ask pardon--you will not bear ill-will against an old woman, who imagined that she was acting wisely. I feel that I am going to love you. You have spirit--you are worthy to be even a Markeld. You must forgive that poor boy yonder." "I think I shall put him on probation," said Susie, glancing up with bright eyes into the eager face beside her. The Prince sank to his knee, his face suddenly radiant with joy, caught her hand and covered it with kisses. "Six months, a year, ten years!" he cried. "I shall be content!" "Ten years! Nonsense!" cried the duchess. "Ten days, mademoiselle. You do not love him if you make it an instant longer!" "No, not ten days, madame," corrected Susie, with a laugh that was half a sob. "Let us say ten minutes!"