done to you is irreparable. Ah, have not my arms hungered for the touch
of you, my heart ached for the longing of you? To see you day after day,
always humble before you, always glad to kiss the back of your hand!
Have I not lived in hell, your Highness?" turning to the duke.
"What am I, and who am I?" whispered Hildegarde, her heart almost
ceasing to beat.
"I am your father!" simply.
CHAPTER XXIII
HAPPINESS
The grand duke of Ehrenstein beheld the chancellor with that phase of
astonishment which leaves the mind unclouded. The violent storm in his
heart gave way to a calm, not at all menacing, but tinctured with a
profound pity. What a project! What a mind to conceive it, to perfect it
down to so small a detail as a jeweler's mark in the gold of the locket!
And a little finger to betray it! In a flash he saw vividly all this man
had undergone, day by day, unfaltering, unhesitant, forgetting nothing,
remembering everything but the one insignificant item which was to
overthrow him. He felt that he was confronted with a great problem; what
to do with the man?
Prince Ludwig took off his hat. "Herbeck, you are a great politician."
"No, prince," replied Herbeck, with ineffable sadness. "Had I been a
great politician I should have succeeded. Ah, give this to my merit;
self never entered into this dream. For you, my child, only for you. And
so great was this dream that I almost made you a queen! You are my flesh
and blood, the child of my wife, whom I loved. She was only a singer in
the opera, at Dresden, but her soul was great, like yours. It is a
simple story."
Hildegarde did not move, nor had she moved since the revelation.
Carmichael, a secret joy in his heart, watched the girl for the
slightest swaying, that inevitable prelude to fainting. But Hildegarde
was not the kind of woman who faints in the face of a catastrophe,
however great it might be. The only sign of life lay in her beautiful
eyes, the gaze of which remained unswervingly fixed upon the
chancellor'
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