"From this hour I believe in the legend of the Fairy of the Roses,"
said the elder of the two gentlemen, who was indeed no other than
Baron Pollnitz. "Yes, princess, I believe fully, and I would not be
at all astonished if your highness should at this moment flutter
from the window in a chariot drawn by doves, and cast another shower
of blossoms in the face of my friend."

The princess had found time to recover herself, and to remember the
haughty part she was determined to play.

"I hope, baron," she said, sternly, "you will not allow yourself to
suppose it was my purpose to throw those roses either to your
companion or yourself? I wished only to get rid of them."

She shut the window rudely and noisily, and commanded her attendants
to complete her toilet at once. She seated herself sternly before
the glass, and ordered her French maid to cover her head with jewels
and ribbons.

The two gentlemen still stood in the garden, in earnest
conversation.

"This is assuredly an auspicious omen, my friend," said Pollnitz to
the young officer, who was gazing musingly at the roses he held in
his hand. He had raised his eyes from the flowers to the window at
which the lovely form of the princess had, for a few moments,
appeared.

"Alas!" said he, sighing, and gazing afar off; "she is so