The King agreed to this plan, although not without some hesitation, and Cyril manœuvred the army of beaters so adroitly that before they had been ten minutes in the forest Caerleon and the Princess found themselves alone. The result of the discovery was absolutely to deprive Caerleon of the power of speech, and he walked on in silence beside his companion, who was firing off nervous little sentences at intervals. We are told, by those who should be well qualified to speak on the subject, that words are apt to fail him who desires to offer his hand and heart to the girl of his choice; but what is his difficulty compared with that of the man who finds it his duty to explain to an expectant lady why he does _not_ propose? The cold sweat stood on Caerleon’s brow as the Princess ceased her spasmodic remarks abruptly, and appeared from her silence to be expecting him to speak; but after an awful five minutes, in the course of which he twice cleared his throat and made a vain attempt to say something--it did not matter what--she herself, to his astonishment, broke the ice. “I--I have something to say to your Majesty,” she began. “You have come here with the intention of--of marrying me----” This was more and more terrible. It rushed into Caerleon’s tortured mind that Princess Ottilie must belong to a German variety of the New Woman, and that she was going to propose to him. How was he to manage to refuse her? She must be stopped at any cost. “On the contrary,” he interrupted, floundering desperately into what he had to say--“your Highness is mistaken. I have no desire--no intention--no--no hope of marrying you.” “Indeed!” cried Princess Ottilie, facing him with crimson cheeks and flashing eyes. “Then pray understand that your feelings are entirely reciprocated. I have no desire--no intention of marrying your Majesty,” and she made him an elaborate curtsey, which was rather incongruous when taken in conjunction with her gaiters and short skirts. But Caerleon was far too deeply impressed with the conviction that he had blundered horribly in beginning his delicate task to notice anything of the kind. “I assure you,” he said, earnestly, “that nothing could be further from my mind than to wish to insult your Royal Highness. I can only ask you to pardon my bungling way of expressing myself. I came here intending to throw myself upon your mercy, and beg you to release me from an engagement which was entered into without my consent.” Princess Ottilie still stood angry and irresolute, darting distrustful glances at him, but it seemed to Caerleon that she was more disposed to listen than at first. He hurried on--