"What jest is this, Leopold ?" The king, still holding her hands, looked down.
"Leopold ?" plaintively.
Still he did not speak, still he averted his head.

But God knew that his heart was on the rack.
The princess, remaining in the background, not daring to interfere, felt the smart of tears in her eyes.

Ah, the poor tender little goose-girl! The pity of it! This king was a scoundrel.
"Leo, look at me! You are laughing! Why, did we not work together in the vineyards, and did we not plan for the future?
_Ah_, yes! You are a king only to me.

I see.

But it is a cruel jest, Leopold.