Then he went out and took his way towards the Garden House, walking with long strides. He was determined to know the truth, and that at once. Amid all the brilliant men who crowded her father’s Court was he indeed the only one who could touch her heart? An hour ago he would have laughed at any one who had told him he had touched it; yet now he believed he had. And what intoxication that belief was! For the first time he began to feel the absolute infatuation of love. And looking back it seemed to him that an hour ago he had not loved Fleta—that he had never loved her till this minute. He found her standing at the gate, among the flowers. She was dressed in white, and some crimson roses were fastened at her neck. Her face was like a child’s, full of gaiety and gladness. Hilary’s heart bounded with the delight it gave him to see her like this. She opened the gate for him, and together they walked towards the house. “I have been to see Father Amyot,” said Hilary. “He sent for me this morning.” “Yes,” answered Fleta, quietly. “He had a message to you from me. Are you willing to undertake a tiresome task for one you know so little?” “My Princess,” murmured Hilary, bending his head as he spoke. “But not your Queen,” said Fleta, with a laugh full of the glorious insolence only possible to one who had the royal blood in her veins, and knew that a crown was waiting for her. “Yes, my Queen,” said Hilary. “If you call me that,” said Fleta, quickly, and in a different tone, “you recognise a royalty not recognised by courtiers.” “Yes,” replied Hilary simply. “The royalty of power,” added Fleta, significantly, and with a penetrating look into his eyes. “Call it what you will,” answered Hilary, “you are my Queen. From this hour I give allegiance.” “Be it so,” said Fleta, with a light girlish laugh, “Be ready then, tomorrow at noon. I will tell you where to meet me. I will send a message in the morning.” Suddenly a recollection crossed Hilary’s mind which had hitherto been blotted out from it. “My mother,” he said. “Oh,” said Fleta, “I have been to see Madame Estanol. My father goes into the country to-day and she believes you go with him. She is glad you should join the Court.” “Strange,” said Hilary, unthinkingly, “for she has always set her face against it.” Then the smile on Fleta’s face made him think his words foolish. “It is as my Queen orders. Seemingly, men and women obey her even in their inmost hearts.” “No,” said Fleta, with a sigh, “that is just what they do not! It is that power which I have yet to obtain. They obey me, yes, but against the dictates of their inmost hearts. If you really loved me, we could obtain that power; but you are like the others. You do not love me with your inmost heart!” “I do not!” exclaimed Hilary, in amazement, stunned by her words.