had brought the secret to the princess.

And not only did she know in which room stood the lady ready to
emerge, all blushing and radiant, should her door be opened, but
she knew who the lady was. It was one of the fairest and
loveliest of the damsels of the court who had been selected as
the reward of the accused youth, should he be proved innocent of
the crime of aspiring to one so far above him; and the princess
hated her. Often had she seen, or imagined that she had seen, this
fair creature throwing glances of admiration upon the person of
her lover, and sometimes she thought these glances were
perceived, and even returned. Now and then she had seen them
talking together; it was but for a moment or two, but much can be
said in a brief space; it may have been on most unimportant
topics, but how could she know that? The girl was lovely, but she
had dared to raise her eyes to the loved one of the princess; and,
with all the intensity of the savage blood transmitted to her
through long lines of wholly barbaric ancestors, she hated the
woman who blushed and trembled behind that silent door.

When her lover turned and looked at her, and his eye met hers as
she sat there, paler and whiter than any one in the vast ocean of
anxious faces about her, he saw, by that power of quick
perception which is given to those whose souls are one, that she
knew behind which door crouched the tiger, and behind which
stood the lady. He had expected her to know it. He understood her
nature, and his soul was assured that she would never rest until
she had made plain to herself this thing, hidden to all other
lookers-on, even to the king. The only hope for the youth in which
there was any element of certainty was based upon the success