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"How she loves me!" thought Princess Mary. "How happy I am now,

and how happy I may be with such a friend and such a husband!

Husband? Can it be possible?" she thought, not daring to look at

his face, but still feeling his eyes gazing at her.

In the evening, after supper, when all were about to retire,

Anatole kissed Princess Mary's hand. She did not know how she

found the courage, but she looked straight into his handsome face

as it came near to her shortsighted eyes. Turning from Princess

Mary he went up and kissed Mademoiselle Bourienne's hand. (This

was not etiquette, but then he did everything so simply and with

such assurance!) Mademoiselle Bourienne flushed, and gave the

princess a frightened look.

"What delicacy!" thought the princess. "Is it possible that

Amelie" (Mademoiselle Bourienne) "thinks I could be jealous of

her, and not value her pure affection and devotion to me?" She

went up to her and kissed her warmly. Anatole went up to kiss the

little princess' hand.