"Ach!" said the innkeeper, "that Stahlberg! He shall be dismissed." Unhappily for him, that individual was just passing along the corridor. The innkeeper signaled him to approach. "How dared you?" began the innkeeper, thrusting the letter under Stahlberg's nose. "Dare?--I?--Herr," said the big fellow, "I do not understand. What is it you accuse me of?" "This," cried the innkeeper: "You have written to Herr Winthrop and told him that Her Highness was at the inn. And you were expressly forbidden to do so." Stahlberg looked around blankly. "I swear to heaven, Herr--" "Do not prevaricate!" the innkeeper interrupted. "You know that you wrote this." "Stahlberg," I cried excitedly; "tell me why you wrote this note to me and I'll see that you are taken care of the rest of your days." "I forbid him!" commanded Gretchen in alarm. "As God hears me, Herr," said Stahlberg stoutly. "I wrote not a line to you or to any one." "Oh!" cried the innkeeper, stamping. "And you deny that you have written here that you saw Her Highness in the garden three nights ago?" Gretchen was beginning to grow terrified for some reason. I myself was filled with wonder, knowing well enough that nothing about a garden had been written in the note I had received. "Do you dare deny," went on the implacable old man, "that you have written here that you saw Her Highness in the garden, and that she was weeping and murmuring this man's name?" "Oh!" cried Gretchen, gazing wildly at the door. The innkeeper suddenly took the bewildered giant by the shoulders and pushed him from the room, following him swiftly; and the door closed noisily behind them. My heart was in flames. I understood all now, though I dare say Gretchen didn't. All at once, her head fell on the back of the chair from which she had but lately risen. She was weeping silently and deeply. I did not move, but stood watching her, drinking in with exultation the loveliness of a woman in tears. She was mine, mine, mine! The innkeeper had not really known her heart till the night in the garden to which he so adroitly referred; then he had made up his mind that things were not as they should be, and had sent me that anonymous note. Mine at last, I thought. Somehow, for the first time in my life I felt what is called masterful; that is to say, not all heaven and earth should take her away from me now. Softly I passed over to her side and knelt at her feet. I lifted the hem of her gown and pressed it to my lips.