"And under certain circumstances she likes to know his name," she added.
For a moment I was undecided. Should I tell her and claim my
cousinship? I was sorely tempted. Then I saw what a mistake it would
be,--she would not believe it,--and answered:
"John Smith, Your Royal Highness, and your most obedient servant."
She must have noticed my hesitation, for she studied my face an
instant, then said, with a pause between each word and a peculiar
stress on the name:
"General--Smith?"
"Simple Captain," I answered. "We do not climb so rapidly in our Army."
Just then, from the barracks three miles away, came the boom of the
evening gun.
"Oh!" she exclaimed, "I am late. I must hasten. Good-bye, _mon
Capitaine_; you have been very kind."
She drew off her gauntlet and extended her hand. I bent and
kissed,--possibly too lingeringly,--the little fingers.
"Farewell, Princess," I said. And then, half under my breath, I added:
"Till we meet again."
She heard, and again that smile. "'_Auf Wiedersehen_' be it," she
answered.
Then she rode away.
I leaned against my horse's shoulder and watched her as she went slowly
down the hill, the full glory of the sinking sun upon her, and the
shadows of the great trees close on either side. Presently there came
a bend in the road and, turning in the saddle, she waved her hand.
I answered with my hat. Then she was gone. That was how I met the
Princess Royal of Valeria. And, unless she has told it (which,
somehow, I doubt), none knows it but ourselves. I had never seen her
since. Perhaps that is why I was quite content for Courtney to win his
bet. Truly, a man's heart does not age with his hair.