Stephen made no answer for a time, then he said softly: "If she loves the Prince and he her, why should they not marry?" "Because his birth is above hers." "I am glad, then, that I am of no birth, for I can marry whom I will." "Are you so happy and so free, Stephen?" sighed the Princess; and there was no more of the veil left than served to frame the picture of her face. "So soon as you have refused me the third time, madame," bowed the smith. "Will you not answer me?" cried the Princess; and she smiled no more, but was as eager as though she were asking some important question. "Bring the Countess here to-morrow at this time," said Stephen, "and I will answer." "You wish, perhaps, to make a comparison between us?" she asked haughtily. "I cannot be compelled to answer except on my own terms," said the smith. "Yet if you will refuse me once again, the thing will be finished." "I will refuse you," she cried, "when I please." "But you will bring the Countess, madame?" "I am very sorry for her. I have behaved ill to her, Stephen, though I meant only to jest." "There is room for amends, madame," said he. The Princess looked long and curiously in his face, but he met her glance with a quiet smile. "It grows late," said he, "and you should not be here longer, madame. Shall I escort you to the palace?" "And have every one asking with whom Stephen the smith walks? No, I will go as I came. You have not answered me, Stephen." "And you have not refused me, madame." "Will you answer me to-morrow when I come with the Countess?" "Yes, I will answer then." The Princess had drawn near to the door; now Stephen opened it for her to pass out; and as she crossed the threshold, she said: "And I will refuse you then--perhaps;" with which she darted swiftly down the dark, silent, shining street, and was gone; and Stephen, having closed the door, passed his hand twice over his brow, sighed thrice, smiled once, and set about the preparation of his supper.