There were hot tears in my eyes as I stood up and gazed down at this mystery called death. And while I did so, a hand, horny and hard, closed over mine. The innkeeper, with blinking eyes, stood at my side. "Ah, Herr," he said, "who would not die like that?" And we buried him on the hillside, just as the sun swept aside the rosy curtain of dawn. The wind, laden with fresh morning perfumes, blew up joyously from the river. From where I stood I could see the drab walls of the barracks. The windows sparkled and flashed as the gray mists sailed heavenward and vanished. The hill with its long grasses resembled a green sea. The thick forests across the river, almost black at the water's edge, turned a fainter and more delicate hue as they receded, till, far away, they looked like mottled glass. Only yesterday he had laughed with me, talked and smoked with me, and now he was dead. A rage pervaded me. We are puny things, we, who strut the highways of the world, parading a so-called wisdom. There is only one philosophy; it is to learn to die. "Come," said I to the innkeeper; and we went down the hill. "When does the Herr leave?" "At once. There will be no questions?" I asked, pointing to the village. "None. Who knows?" "Then, remember that Herr Hillars was taken suddenly ill and died, and that he desired to be buried here. I dare say the Prince will find some excuse for his arm, knowing the King's will in regard to dueling. Do you understand me?" "Yes." I did not speak to him again, and he strode along at my heels with an air of preoccupation. We reached the inn in silence. "What do you know about her Serene Highness the Princess Hildegarde?" I asked abruptly. "What does Herr wish to know?" shifting his eyes from my gaze. "All you can tell me." "I was formerly in her father's service. My wife----" He hesitated, and the expression on his face was a sour one. "Go on." "Ah, but it is unpleasant, Herr. You see, my wife and I were not on the best of terms. She was handsome . . . a cousin of the late Prince. . . . She left me more than twenty years ago. I have never seen her since, and I trust that she is dead. She was her late Highness's hair-dresser." "And the Princess Hildegarde?" "She is a woman for whom I would gladly lay down my life." "Yes, yes!" I said impatiently. "Who made her the woman she is? Who taught her to shoot and fence?" "It was I." "You?" "Yes. From childhood she has been under my care. Her mother did so desire. She is all I have in the world to love. And she loves me, Herr; for in all her trials I have been her only friend. But why do you ask these questions?" a sudden suspicion lighting his eyes. "I love her." He took me by the shoulders and squared me in front of him. "How do you love her?" a glint of anger mingling with the suspicion. "I love her as a man who wishes to make her his wife." His hands trailed down my sleeves till they met and joined mine.