"Not a word more," cried the enraged Philip, in a smothered voice; for he dared not speak aloud, he was so surrounded by maskers, who were listening, dancing, talking, as they passed him, and he might have betrayed himself; "not a word more!" "No, there will be more than words. Deeds shall show my sincerity. You may advance. You are wont to conquer. The outposts will be easily taken. The gardener I will manage, and the mother will range herself under your gilded banners. Then the fortress will be won!" "Sir, if you venture," said Philip, who now could hardly contain himself. It was with great difficulty he refrained from open violence, and he clutched the arm of the Dutchman with the force of a vice. "Your Highness, for Heaven's sake, moderate your joy. I shall scream--you are mashing my arm!" "If you venture to go near that innocent girl, I will demolish every bone in your body." "Good, good," screamed the Dutchman, in intense pain; "only let go my arm." "If I find you anywhere near Milk Street, I'll dash your miserable brains out. So look to it." The Dutchman seemed almost stupefied; trembling, he said: "May it please your Highness, I could not imagine you really loved the girl as it seems you do." "I love her! I will own it before the whole world!" "And are loved in return?" "That's none of your business. Never mention her name to me again. Do not even think of her; it would be a stain upon her purity. Now you know what I think. Be off!" Philip twirled the unfortunate Dutchman round as he let go his arm, and that worthy gentleman slunk out of the hall. VIII. In the meantime Philip's substitute supported his character of watchman on the snow-covered streets. It is scarcely necessary to say that this was none other than Prince Julian who had taken a notion to join the watch--his head being crazed by the fire of the sweet wine. He attended to the directions left by Philip, and went his rounds, and called the hour with great decorum, except that, instead of the usual watchman's verses, he favored the public with rhymes of his own. He was cogitating a new stanza, when the door of a house beside him opened, and a well-wrapped-up girl beckoned to him, and ran into the shadow of the house. The Prince left his stanza half finished, and followed the apparition. A soft hand grasped his in the darkness, and a voice whispered: "Good-evening, dear Philip. Speak low, that nobody may hear us. I have only got away from the company for one moment to speak to you as you passed. Are you happy to see me?" "Blest as a god, my angel,--who could be otherwise than happy by thy side?" "I've some good news for you, Philip. You must sup at our house to-morrow evening. My mother has allowed me to ask you. You 'll come?" "For the whole evening, and as many more as you wish. Would we might be together till the end of the world! 'T would be a life fit for gods!"