‘Dear me,’ said the old gentleman, ‘this is most unprecedented. Lovers’ quarrels,’ he added ruefully, ‘redintegratio—’ and then paused. ‘But, my dear madam,’ he broke out again, ‘in the name of all that is practical, what are we to do? This is exceedingly grave; morally, madam, it is appalling. I take the liberty, your Highness, for one moment, of addressing you as a daughter, a loved although respected daughter; and I must say that I cannot conceal from you that this is morally most questionable. And, O dear me, we have a dead body!’ She had watched him closely; hope fell to contempt; she drew away her skirts from his weakness, and, in the act, her own strength returned to her. ‘See if he be dead,’ she said; not one word of explanation or defence; she had scorned to justify herself before so poor a creature: ‘See if he be dead’ was all. With the greatest compunction, the Chancellor drew near; and as he did so the wounded Baron rolled his eyes. ‘He lives,’ cried the old courtier, turning effusively to Seraphina. ‘Madam, he still lives.’ ‘Help him, then,’ returned the Princess, standing fixed. ‘Bind up his wound.’ ‘Madam, I have no means,’ protested the Chancellor. ‘Can you not take your handkerchief, your neck-cloth, anything?’ she cried; and at the same moment, from her light muslin gown she rent off a flounce and tossed it on the floor. ‘Take that,’ she said, and for the first time directly faced Greisengesang. But the Chancellor held up his hands and turned away his head in agony. The grasp of the falling Baron had torn down the dainty fabric of the bodice; and—‘O Highness!’ cried Greisengesang, appalled, ‘the terrible disorder of your toilette!’ ‘Take up that flounce,’ she said; ‘the man may die.’ Greisengesang turned in a flutter to the Baron, and attempted some innocent and bungling measures. ‘He still breathes,’ he kept saying. ‘All is not yet over; he is not yet gone.’ ‘And now,’ said she ‘if that is all you can do, begone and get some porters; he must instantly go home.’ ‘Madam,’ cried the Chancellor, ‘if this most melancholy sight were seen in town—O dear, the State would fall!’ he piped. ‘There is a litter in the Palace,’ she replied. ‘It is your part to see him safe. I lay commands upon you. On your life it stands.’ ‘I see it, dear Highness,’ he jerked. ‘Clearly I see it. But how? what men? The Prince’s servants—yes. They had a personal affection. They will be true, if any.’ ‘O, not them!’ she cried. ‘Take Sabra, my own man.’ ‘Sabra! The grand-mason?’ returned the Chancellor, aghast. ‘If he but saw this, he would sound the tocsin—we should all be butchered.’ She measured the depth of her abasement steadily. ‘Take whom you must,’ she said, ‘and bring the litter here.’