signs of being shop-worn her refusal was based upon just--"Because!"--a
weapon as invincible as the fabled spear of Parsifal. She had spurned
the addresses of Prince Mischler, laughed at those of the Count of
------ - ------ (the short dash indicates the presence of a hyphen) and
General Muerrisch, of the emperor's body-guard, who was, I'm sure, good
enough--in his own opinion--for any woman. Every train brought to the
capital some suitor with a consonated, hyphenated name and a pedigree
as long as a bore's idea of a funny story. But the princess did not
care for pedigrees that were squint-eyed or bow-legged. One and all of
them she cast aside as unworthy her consideration. Then, like the
ancient worm, the duke turned. She should marry Doppelkinn, who,
having no wife to do the honors in his castle, was wholly agreeable.

The Prince of Doppelkinn reigned over the neighboring principality. If
you stood in the middle of it and were a baseball player, you could
throw a stone across the frontier in any direction. But the vineyards
were among the finest in Europe. The prince was a widower, and among
his own people was affectionately styled "_der Rotnäsig_," which, I
believe, designates an illuminated proboscis. When he wasn't fishing
for rainbow trout he was sleeping in his cellars. He was often missing
at the monthly reviews, but nobody ever worried; they knew where to
find him. And besides, he might just as well sleep in his cellars as
in his carriage, for he never rode a horse if he could get out of doing
so. He was really good-natured and easy-going, so long as no one
crossed him severely; and you could tell him a joke once and depend
upon his understanding it immediately, which is more than I can say for
the duke.

Years and years ago the prince had had a son; but at the tender age of
three the boy had run away from the castle confines, and no one ever