They both instinctively turned to confront the girl as she entered. She had changed her ordinary white homespun gown for another of the same kind, equally simple, but fresh and unworn; her glorious bronze-chestnut hair was unbound to its full rippling length, and was held back by a band or fillet of curiously carved white coral, which surmounted the rich tresses somewhat in the fashion of a small crown, and she carried, thrown over one arm, the only kind of cloak she ever wore,--a burnous-like wrap of the same white homespun as her dress, with a hood, which, as the Professor slowly took out his glasses and fixed them on his nose out of mere mechanical habit, to look at her more closely, she drew over her head and shoulders, the soft folds about her exquisite face completing a classic picture of such radiant beauty as is seldom seen nowadays among the increasingly imperfect and repulsive specimens of female humanity which ‘progress’ combined with sensuality, produce for the ‘advancement’ of the race. “I have no Court dress,” she said smiling; “And if I had I should not wear it! The King and Queen shall see me as my husband sees me,--what pleases him, must suffice to please them! I am quite ready!” Von Glauben removed the spectacles he had needlessly put on. They were dim with a moisture which he furtively polished off, blinking his eyes meanwhile as if the light hurt him. He was profoundly moved--thrilled to the very core of his soul by the simplicity, frankness and courage of this girl whose education was chiefly out of wild Nature’s lesson-book, and who knew nothing of the artificial world of fashion. “And I, my princess, am at your service!” he said; “Ronsard, it is but a few hours that we shall be absent. To-night with the rising of the moon we shall return, and I doubt not with the Prince himself as chief escort! Keep a good heart and have faith! All will be well!” “All _shall_ be well if Love can make it so!” said Ronsard;--“Gloria--my child--!” He held out his wrinkled hands pathetically, unable to say more. She sank on her knees before him, and tenderly drawing down those hands upon her head, pressed them closely there. “Your blessing, dearest!” she said; “Not in speech--but in thought!” There was a moment’s sacred silence;--then Gloria rose, and throwing her arms round the old man, the faithful protector of her infancy and girlhood, kissed him tenderly. After that, she seemed to throw all seriousness to the winds, and running out under the roses of the porch made two or three light dancing steps across the lawn. “Come!” she cried, her eyes sparkling, her face radiant with the gaiety of her inward spirit; “Come, Professor! This is not what we call a poet’s day of dreams,--it is a Royal day of nonsense! Come!” and here she drew herself up with a stately air--“WE are prepared to confront the King!”