"I shall dance no more to-night," she said. Then we reached the door and found the small room crowded with officials and dignitaries. The Princess halted sharply. "But you may take me for a turn on the terrace," she concluded.

As we crossed the wide floor the crowd fell back,--but Dehra gave no greeting to anyone, though she must have known all eyes were upon us.

Yet, to give her due credit, she seemed as unconscious of it as if we were alone in the room. As for me, I admit I was acutely conscious of it, and the walk to the door seemed endless. I must have shown my relief when it was over, for the Princess looked up with a smile.

"That's your first trial as one of the Blood," she said.

"There are compensations," I answered.

She ignored the point. "They are very few."

"Sometimes, one would be ample."

Again she evaded. "Yes, the privilege to be as free as the lowest subject," she answered, instantly.

"Pure theory," I said. "The lowest subject would think you mad."

"I would gladly exchange places," she said.

"Don't make any of them the offer."

"No--out of regard for my Father I won't."

"It's a great thing to be a Princess Royal," I ventured.

"Oh, I dare say--to those who care for great things."

"Who do not?"

"I don't. At least I think I don't."

"You would think so only until you were not the Princess Royal."

"That may be; but, as I am the Princess Royal and cannot well change my birthright, I don't see how I am to get the chance to think otherwise."

"It's better to think you do not like great things when you have them, than to like them and not have them."

"You make it only a choice of unhappinesses," she said.

"I make it only life."

"You are too young to be pessimistic," she said.

"And you are too fortunate in life to be unhappy," I answered.

"But you said life was but a choice of unhappinesses."

"Only to the discontented."

"Oh!" said she. "Instead of a pessimist you are a philosopher."

"I sincerely trust I'm neither."

"So do I, cousin," she laughed, "if we are to be friends. I don't like philosophers; which is natural, doubtless; and as a pessimist I prefer no rival."

"Which is also natural," I added. "And I promise not to interfere with your prerogative nor do the Socrates act again."

"_Entre nous_, I think you're wise; neither becomes you particularly."

I laughed. "You're frank."

"It's the privilege of cousins," she replied.

"Oh!" said I. "I'm glad you think so."

"That is--in matters strictly cousinly," she added quickly.

"I shall remember," I said.

She gave me a quick glance. "Can you remember several years back?" she said.

(So, she had recognized me.)

"That depends," said I. "I have a bad memory except for pleasant things."

"Then I am quite sure you will remember," she laughed, and fell to picking a rose apart, petal by petal.

"I am ready to remember anything," I said, catching one of the petals.

"Oh! But maybe I don't want you to remember."

"Then I'm ready----"

She looked at me quickly. "To forget?" she interrupted.

"To remember only what you wish," I ended.

"That means you will remember nothing until I wish it?"

I caught the half-plucked rose as she let it fall.

"It means my memory is at your command," I said.

She drew out another rose and dropped it deliberately.

"I am very awkward," she said, as I bent for it.

"On the contrary, I thought you did it very prettily," I answered.

She laughed. "Then you may keep it instead of the torn one."