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For fifty pounds I gained a servant of his, and he told me." "I do not know why you should spy on the prince," said Osra, "and I do not care to know where the prince is." And she touched her horse with the spur, and cantered fast forward, leaving the little house behind.
For there is a great horde of fears and black thoughts beating at the door, and you must not open it." "And what can keep it shut, my princess?" "I think your arm, my prince," said she; and she flew to him. For in the softest voice, and with the strangest smile flitting to her face, the Princess Osra was pleased to bid the embassy come on the fifth day from then.
"But she has worked hard and is weary." "No, she is not weary," cried Osra. "It is for him!" "The wise say this is silly talk," said he. "The wise are fools, then!" cried Osra. "So the dream would please you, madam?" he asked. She had come not to know how she left him. Somehow, while he still spoke, she would suddenly escape by flight. He did not pursue, but let her go.
And thus, side by side now, they came to the door of the house, and saw a gentleman standing in front of the door, still but watchful. And Osra knew that he was the prince's chamberlain. When the chamberlain saw them he started violently, and clapped a hand to his sword; but Osra flung her veil on the ground, and the bishop gripped his arm as with a vise.
Then she put out her hand, and caught him by the arm, whispering: "Are you my friend?" "Yes, madam," said he. She knew well that he was her friend. "Kill him for me, then! Kill him for me!" "I cannot kill him," said the bishop. "I pray God it may prove untrue." "You are not my friend if you will not kill him," said Osra; and she turned her face away, and rode yet more quickly.
For M. de Mérosailles " "These are old stories," cried Osra, pretending to stop her ears. "Loved in one way, and Stephen the Smith in another, and the Miller of Hofbau in a third." "I think," said Osra, "that I have forgotten the Miller of Hofbau. But can one heart love in many different ways? I know that different men love differently." "But cannot one heart love in different ways?" he smiled.
Though she dashed them angrily away, they came again, and ran down her pale, cold cheeks, mourning the golden vision that seemed gone without fulfilment. There followed some lover's phrases, scantily worded, and frigid in an assumed passion. But Osra smiled graciously, and sent back a message, readily accepting all that the prince urged in excuse.
Now Osra and her lover had not heard what the officer had shouted to the king, and when Osra saw her brother returning from among the trees alone and with his sword, she still supposed that her lover must die; and she turned and flung her arms round his neck, and clung to him for a moment, kissing him. Then she faced the king, with a smile on her face and the little dagger in her hand.
"Hark! there are voices," whispered Osra to the bishop, raising her hand above her head, as they two stood motionless. The voices came from the door that faced them, the voice of a man and the voice of a woman. Osra's glance at her companion told him that she knew as well as he whose the man's voice was. "It is true, then," she breathed from between her teeth. "My God, it is true!"
For he chose to assume that the king had ridden to meet him out of excessive graciousness and courtesy towards the Grand Duke; so that he began, to the impatient king's infinite annoyance, to make a very long and stately speech, assuring his majesty of the great hope and joy with which his master awaited the result of the embassy; for, said he, since the king was so zealous in his cause, his master could not bring himself to doubt of success, and therefore most confidently looked to win for his bride the most exalted and lovely lady in the world, the peerless Princess Osra, the glory of the court of Strelsau, and the brightest jewel in the crown of the king, her brother.