She stood at the window, which looked upon the Place de la Madeleine, and waited a long time, thinking deeply. The flower-market below was unusually rich, as the day was warm and springlike; and it presently occurred to her that among the glowing masses of bloom exposed to view there were some varieties of flowers which she did not have. She therefore determined to fill up a part of the time of waiting by going down to get some of these. Hastily putting on her hat, she ran down the winding stairway, crossed the open space, and was soon threading her way among the flower-stalls under the shadow of the beautiful great church. She kept her eye on the entrance to her apartment-house, however; and as she knew the princess’s carriage and livery, she felt that there was no danger of failing to see her friend, should she happen to arrive during her brief absence. The princess, however, did not come in her carriage, or, rather, she sent it away after having crossed the thronged streets of the Place de la Concorde, and, wrapped in her dark cloak, she walked quickly along with the foot-passengers until she reached the house of which she was in search. Then she slipped quietly in, and mounted the steps to the third story. Her ring was answered by a man-servant, [Illustration: “‘I BEG YOUR PARDON,’ HE SAID AGAIN.”] who explained that his young mistress had just gone down to the flower-market for a moment, and who ushered her into the large salon to wait. Scarcely was she seated there when the bell rang again, and the servant opened the door to admit Harold. He had forgotten an important paper, and had come back for it in great haste. He knew that it was his part to avoid the princess in case she should have arrived; but concluding that she would, of course, be with Martha in her own rooms, he came directly into the salon, which was the nearest way of reaching his own apartment. When he had entered, and the door was closed behind him, he took two or three steps forward, and then stopped as if petrified in his place. The princess had risen to her feet, and stood confronting him, her face as pale and agitated as his own. “I beg your pardon,” he said, taking off his hat mechanically; “did you, perhaps, wish to see me?” “No,” she answered; “I wished to see your sister. She has gone across to the flower-market.” Her eyes had fallen under his, and she felt that she was trembling as she stood in front of him and answered his questions as mechanically as a stupid child. “I beg your pardon,” he said again; and he seemed to grow paler still as he stood there irresolute. “Do you wish to see my sister alone?” he then said. “I don’t understand. Do you wish me to stay or to go?” “I wish you to go,” she said, rallying a little as the thought occurred to her that Martha might return. “Your sister is expecting me. I came with the understanding that you were to be away.” A light broke over him, but it cast a sudden shadow on his face.