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strangers—”
    As he spoke I saw, through the one window of the low hut, a round, frightened face peering out at us. It was Prince Louis. I recognized him at once from the portraits I had been sent. The face disappeared almost immediately.
    “He does know that I am coming?”
    “We thought it best not to tell him the exact day of your arrival, as he tends to become—agitated, at the thought of meeting new people.”
    An awful thought occurred to me. “But he does know that I am coming, that we are to be married.” Indeed we were married already, for I had gone through the wedding ceremony in Vienna, with my brother taking Prince Louis’s place.
    “Oh, of course. He has been expecting you these many months.”
    We came to the low door of the hut.
    “Your highness, it is I, Chambertin. I have brought you a visitor. A very special, charming visitor.”
    Silence. Then, as if from far away, a choked voice.
    “Go away.”
    My companion waited for a moment, his composure unruffled by the curt response, then called out again.
    “She has come a very long way, just to see you. Please let us in.”
    Again the choked voice from the other side of the door. “I am busy. Come back next week.”
    I turned to go. “The prince is occupied. I can return tomorrow, after I have had a bath, and some food—”
    “Please, your highness. I know how to deal with his moods.”
    Chambertin lifted his hand to knock on the door, and at the same instant Mufti, who was in my sleeve, emerged from the froth of lace and barked sharply.
    Almost at once the door opened a crack, and Louis peered out.
    “Is that a dog? I like dogs.”
    “This is Mufti, your highness. I brought her all the way from Vienna.” I held her out toward the prince, who opened the door to let us in.
    The interior of the hut was dark, save for a fire in the hearth and lantern on the wall. On long tables were twigs and stems and bits of bark and leaves, each accompanied by a sheet of paper with careful handwriting. Shelves on the walls held jars and baskets, and in a glass-fronted cabinet were displays of moths and butterflies. The remains of the prince’s dinner—a plate of cold meat, a hunk of cheese with the knife still in it, a loaf of black bread and a mug of beer—were on a low bench by the fire.
    Prince Louis stared at us, wide-eyed, taking in my high-piled blond hair, coming loose here and there as a result of the day’s wear and tear, my blue silk day-dress and pearl necklace, myfinery in sharp contrast to the bare, rough interior of the hut and to his own attire. He was dressed like a farmer in pantaloons and a tunic of coarse brown cloth.
    I held Mufti out to him and said, “She won’t bite.”
    Some of the alarm in his face receded as he took the little dog in his arms and stroked her. He smiled—a lovely, childlike smile. I was touched.
    “I know who you are,” the prince said after a long pause. “I sent you some mushrooms. Did you receive them?”
    “Yes. Thank you.”
    “I am making a grand catalog of all the plants in the forest. When it is completed I shall go on to make a catalog of the insects. No one has ever done it before.”
    “What a worthy endeavor.”
    “My grandfather doesn’t think so.” Louis’s tone was bitter. “He thinks little of me. But he will like you, you are pretty.”
    “I’m glad you think so. Will you show me some of your plants?”
    Prince Louis seemed to lose his shyness as he led me around the hut, pointing out one bit of foliage after another. He showed me drawings he had made, dozens of them, and I said I thought they were very good.
    “I suppose I will have to marry you,” he remarked after a time, looking at me balefully.
    “It is expected of us.”
    For one alarming moment I thought he might cry. But he only reached for my hand and put it to his lips.
    “Then I shall.”
    “If your highness is ready, we ought to rejoin the others,” said Chambertin.
    Louis sighed, then handed Mufti back to me. He