she and Sapt came on foot toward where we lay, Sapt waving to the farm-girl to keep at a distance. And when I saw them coming I sat in a sad heap on the ground, and buried my face in my hands. I could not look at her. Fritz knelt by me, laying his hand on my shoulder.
"Speak low, whatever you say," I heard Sapt whisper as they came up, and the next thing I heard was a low cry—half of joy, half of fear—from the princess:
"It is he! Are you hurt?"
And she fell on the ground by me and gently pulled my hands away; but I kept my eyes to the ground.
"It is the king!" she said. "Pray, Colonel Sapt, tell me where lay the wit of the joke you played on me?"
We answered none of us; we three were silent before her. Regardless of them, she threw her arms round my neck and kissed me. Then Sapt spoke in a low, hoarse whisper:
"It is not the king. Don't kiss him; he's not the king."
