A REAL PRINCESS.

New Zealand Mail, Issue 1612, 21 January 1903, Page 6

A REAL PRINCESS.

“I insist,” said the Princess. When the Princess said she “insisted,” even although in height she was only five foot nothing, and petite from the crown of her dainty head to the sole of her pretty feet, you knew that what she insisted upon must be done. “But, madam,” I ventured, “w© shall inevitably be found out; it would never do. What would the Chancellor toy?”

“The Chancellor will never know,” she retorted; “and if he does, I don’t care in the least. I am sick of being fawned on. and kow-towed to’, and called ‘Your Highness’; I want just for a fortnight or three weeks to give up being a princess, and just to bo—an ordinary woman instead. To be your maid, in fact. During all the time we are at Nachdenfeld you shall be the princess and I the maid.”

A long chain of circumstaiiices had landed me in my present exalted position as maid to the Princess of Laubenstein, a remote European principality of which she was the ruler.

My life was necessarily a somewhat lonely one, hut the Princess made of me more a confidante than a maid, and some of her ladies were very good to me, so that in most ways I considered myself a very lucky individual. The preposterous proposal of the Princess I have mentioned above arose out of a plan she had made for staying Quietly and without state or etiquette in. the little village of Nachdenfeld. to which she proposed to go, minus all attendants excepting myself. The Chancellor had begun by negativing her wish entirely. He ended by giving in to her, as he invariably did. And now her fertile brain liad invented the terrible idea that I should masquerade as the princess and she as the maid, during our sojourn at Nachdenfeld, and nothing I could say would shake her decision. “No one will ever find out,” was her final word on the subject. “Nachdenfeld is hundreds ox miles from here; we shall meet no one there we know, and it will be such, fun.” “We shall go by Vienna,” she said next day, “and then I will buy you

gowns. Oh! hut Bochum you will look beautiful dressed as I mean you to l>e dressed.”

I felt like a dummy in her hands; but, well I had to confess there was some truth in her words when I stood before tho long glass in the Vienna Hotel, contemplating my own reflection. The gown I wore was of white satin, made perfectly! plain, by the wish of tho Princess.

“Your figure is lovely, Raeburn,” she said; “the dress must be moulded on to it.”

In all my life I had never possessed such a garment, and I positively gasped as I looked! at myself. When we left Vienna we occupied our proper relations towards one another, but wo stopped for a night at a small, out-of-the-way place, and when we left there our positions were reversed I was the princess, my mistress ivas the maid.

Just before wo reached Nachdenfeld the Princess put her head out cf the window.

“Oh! what fun, what fun!” she cried; “there is quite a crowd at the station. Of course, though I—l mean you—are travelling incognito', still everybody here knows wo are coining. Now you will have to begin your career.” “Oh, madam, what am I to' do ?” I cried; “we must end thiiss falrce —we must not ”

“Nonsense, nonsense,” she said, and at that, moment the train glided into the platform, and a gorgeous official flung our door open. “Her Highness?” he said, looking at me, and quite ignoring the small figure beyond me. Cold all over with fright, I bowed, and th-o official handed me on to the platform, on which, it seemed to me, stood rows and rows cf gentlemen, their hats in their hands. Per one wild moment I dreamt of dashing back to the train, of confessing all, of putting my mistress into her rightful place. But a swift glance over my shoulder showed me the Princess collecting the bags, and I had to stifle an insane desire to go into hysterics. Then I determined to go through with the thing at all costs. I walked on. therefore, between the rows of bowing gentlemen, holding myself with all the dignity at my command, and bowing right and left with my most stately bows. On emerging into the little square outside the station I found quite a number of people assembled, who stared at me with all their eyes. I told the official who received me that my maid would go in the same carriage as myself.

As we drove away amidst a cheer from the good-natured villagers, she flung herself back in the carriage and laughed and laughed. “Oh! Raeburn, it is more delightful than I thought. That dreadfully grand official—l can’t make out what h© is—confided to me as we came along that the village proposes to give a hall in my —I mean your—honour, and all the elite of the neighbourhood are to come to it.”

I gasped with horror. I felt mere inclined to cry with annoyance than to join in her laughter. It was all very well for her to be so much amused, but the part of princess was an unaccustomed one for. me to play, and the idea of figuring at a ball as the ruler of Laubenstein terrified far more than it- amused me. A charming suit© of rooms was prepared for us at the hotel, and once in our own apartmelmhs I insisted upon being my natural seif. Only in public would I yield to the will of my - mistress, and he a mock princess. Our life at Nachdenfeld was, on the whole, very quiet, excepting for some charming picnics and outdoor fetes, arranged for the amusement of the Princess by some of the gentry round. I attended these functions, whilst my mistress strolled in the woods about the village and amused herself in her own way. But when we had been a week at. Nachdenfeld the - Princess, who, of course, always opened her own letters, looked at mo across the table in our sittmgroom with a startled expression.. “This complicates affairs,” she said, throwing a letter to n.e. - I read it through and looked at her in silent dismay. It was from the Chancellor, and made a complication of a most unforeseen kind.

A gentleman from the British Court, Sir Ralph Durrant, had arrived at Laubenstein, bound on a special mission to Her Highness, and the Chancellor wrote that this gentleman was preparing to start at one©, for Nachdenfeld, there to discuss with the Princess herself some of the matters involved in the mission.

“And we ean do nothing,” cried my mistress; “you see, he will have started before w© cotdd stop him. He will be here to-morrow.”

My first idea was that we should throw ourselves upon his mercy and confess our wickedness, but the Princess absolutely refused to listen to such a suggestion.'

“It would never do,” she said decidedly ; “no, you must play the part to the end, Raeburn. We do not know what tales this Sir Ralph Durrant may carry away with him if we let him know the truth. Then, Raeburn, it must never

dawn on the people here that they have been deceived. I shall never come here agaiu, they are not likely to see me at home, and we must play our play right through. I will prime you what to say to this Sir Ralph, and you must still be me.”

Never in my life have I been so terrified as I was the next evening when a message was brought to me that Sir Ralph Durrant had arrived and would I. be graciously pleased to see him. I was anything hut graciously pleased, and put on Ihe gown the Princess made me wear with a sinking heart and a foreboding of disaster. Sir Ralph was tall and very distin-guished-looking. His bright blue eyes were of penetrating keenness, and a horrible ftar smote me lest he should seo through my disguise. But he evidently suspected nothing, and began to speak at once on the subject of his journey. I gave the answers my mistress had bidden me give, and presently, our business finished, wo slipped into a conversation on things in general, carried on first in German and then in English. Sir Ralph looked at me with increased admiration when he heard me speak his own tongue. “You must have been a good deal in England, madam?” lie said; “your accent is perfect.” Here was a quandary. I knew that my mistress had never been in tho British Isles, but with those keen eyes on me I did not dare to tell a lie, so' I evaded the question to the best of my ability.

“I have spoken English all ray life,” I replied; “it—it is very easy to me.” He stayed chatting with me for nearly an hour, and asked leave to come on the following morning to bid me farewell ; a request which I granted with a pleasure for which I did not trouble to account.

Our farewell was not spoken next day. The local authorities had got wind of the Englishman’s arrival, and a deputation waited on him to' invite him to remain for the great country fete of two days hence, and for the ball on the following night.

He told me at once cf the invitation, saying courteously : “I know, madame, that it is your wish to be incognito here” fall! how incognito I really was he had no idea), “and if my remaining will tend to’ add formality or etiquette to the functions, only command me and I will go at onoe.” There was an oddly appealing look in the blue eyes that met mine, a look before which my own eyes fell, and my heart unexpectedly gave a prodigious leap. “Oh!” I stammered; “please do not think it necessary to go. I —l shall be very glad if you—l mean X should be very sorry if you did not accept the invitation.”

Well, ho stayed, and through the golden summer afternoons that followed he and I, attended by my so-called maid, wandered in the woods and over the wide commons of Nachdenfel d, discussing his mission—and —other things. The fete was an. unqualified success, and Sir Ralph never left my side. In the distance I caught occasional glimpses of the Princess, who looked at mo demurely and smiled, a smile that brought the hot blood to my face. “Sir Ralph Durrant is not anxious to leave Is achdenf eld,’ ’ she said carelessly that evening, as I was brushing her hair. - “Ho is charmed with the place,” I answered quietly ; “he says the air is so invigorating—so

“Ah ! yes —the air —so invigorating—so ” =. The Princess repeated my words with a little mocking laugh. “Oh! but it is great fun,” she ended, clapping her hands: “better than any play I ever saw, and what will he do when he has to leave his—princess?” she asked softly. My heart gave a loud, bound and stood still.

“When, ho liad to leave?” The days were fleeting fast. My reign was nearly over, so nearly over. In a week I should he a maid again—and he ? “Never mind,” I thought recklessly, “I will enjoy myself whilst I ean. It will he something to look hack on for the rest of my life. I will only think of the present, and leave the future to take care of itself.”

In rhis spirit 1 dressed for the ball. I wore the white satin gown, and as I saw myself enter the room in the long glass opposite the door a triumphant certainty filled my heart that I was the most 'beautiful woman present. The shining white of the satin fell round me in graceful folds, setting off my figure to perfection. Clasped round my waist was the magnificent sapphire belt of the L/aubensteins, encircling my neck was the necklace of the same gems, and gleaming in my hair was fhe tiara of sapphires and diamonds.^ A murmur of admiration ran round the room, and the look that flashed over Sir Ralph Durrant’s face made my brain whirl and my pulses dance in ecstacy. We danced together many times, and at first I could have sworn that he was in the same condition of ecstatic happiness as I had been in at the beginning of the ball. But as the night advanced he grew strangely silent and gloomy. ‘Could I have offended him in any

way?” I wondered, when his stiffness became more marked than ever, “poind I unwittingly have hurt him? If so, I must set myself right with him at any cost.” Therefore, after a waltz, during which he had not uttered a single syllable, I said: “Can wo go outside? I long iot some fresh air; it is so hot in here, so lovely outside.”

Ho started violently, I thought he mattered “too lovely” ; hut pulling himself together, lie courteously assented to my request, merely saying : “I thought your Highness might not care to leave the ballroom.” •

“I think the common aind the-woods are far better than a stuffy ballroom,” I answered recklessly; “and what is the use of being a princess if one cannot do as one likes? Let me enjoy my son for to-night.”

The air was fragrant with the smell of flowers, a heavenly stillness lay cvei the world, a stillness broken all at once by the song of a nightingale in the woods behind us. As the liquid exquisite notes fell on our ears I turned and looked at my companion. I found his eyes fixed upon me with such an expression cf sadness in their depths as held me spellbound.

“What is it?” I exclaimed, after a breathless pause, in which our eyes met so sadly. “And why have you been so silent and strange to-night? Have I

“You have done nothing—nothing,” he cried vehemently; “i t is not what you have done, but what you are, that makes me sad.”

“What I am?” I echoed stupidly. “But surely we have been good friends?” .

“Tq-o good friends —for my peace of mind,” he whispered. “I am going to say good-bye tQ you to-night, Princess. I leave Nachdenfeld to-morrow.”

“You aro going away?” I cried, all the blood seeming suddenly to drain away from my heart; “going away ?” “Yes —going away,” he answered after a moment. “Don’t- you see that I must go —I must go,” ho went on almost savagely ; “I ought never to have stayed—and now —I must’go.” “Go?” I repeated feebly: “but why?” “For both our salces,” he whispered passionately. “For yours because I could not let your name be coupled with mine by idle gossip; for mine—because have dared to —love you !”

“But —but ” I stammered, and then all in a minphe it flashed oyer me that I was masquerading as a princess. Nervousness, joy, and fear combined made me suddenly break into a peai of hysterical laughter. He flung my hand from him indignantly. . . _ “At least you need no-t have laughed at. me,” he said proucky: “you could surely have spared me that. lam only too well aware of my own audacity in loving vou, but it was not necessary to insult me! After all, even a princess need not despise the love c*. an honest man.”

“Oh!! don't, don’t,” I. gasped ; “do stop please, do stop. ■ I am not laughing at you. No princess could despise your love, I am sure, but I am not a princess 1” “Not—a princess !” lie repeated. .«N0_n0,”..1 cried feverishly, shrinking away from him. “I am not a prinoess —I-i-I am the princess’ maid. But —it—it is a secret.”

He did not seem to hear the last Words. Quite suddenly he stooped "over me, and gathered me into his arms, raining on my cheeks, my lips, my hair, murmuring words of love that almost frightened me hy their passionate tenderness, asking me to be his

wife. " - “But, indeed,” I said breathlessly, “you must not do this. lam not fit to be your wife. Do try to understand that I am only a maid—a lady’s maid. I am not a real princess or anything like one.”

“Never mind,” he whispered: “do you think it matters to me what, your provfession has been ? 1 see and know what you are, and that is all that matters, and I love you. Thank Heaven you are not a ‘real princess,’ as you call. it. You are better than that—you are the ‘queen of my heart!’ ” And in this unexpected fashion ended my career in domestic service, and my experiences as a lady’s maid.