prompt:
Chapter: The office of the American consulate in the Adlergasse ran from the
front to the rear of the building. Carmichael's desk overlooked the
street. But whenever a flying dream came to him he was wont to take his
pipe to the chair by the rear window, whence he could view the lofty
crests of the Jugendheit mountains. Directly below this window and
running parallel with it was the _Biergarten_ of the Black Eagle.

It is a quiet tonic to the mind to look off, to gaze at sunlit,
cloud-embraced mountain peaks, Walter Pater to the contrary.
Carmichael's mind that morning needed quiet, and so he came to this
window; and with a smoldering pipe let himself to dreams. He was still
in the uniform of the royal hunt, a meet having taken place that
morning. He saw darling faces in the rugged outlines of the mountains,
in the white clouds billowing across, in the patches of dazzling blue
in between. Such is the fancy of a man in love!

His letter of resignation was on its way, but it would be in November
before he heard definitely from the department. By that time the great
snows would have blanketed the earth, and the nadir of his discontent
would be reached. But what to do till that time? He could ride for some
weeks, but riding without companionship was rather a lonesome affair.
His own defiance of the chancellor had erected an impassable barrier
between her highness and himself. They would watch him now, evade him,
put small obstacles in his path, obstacles against which he could enter
no reasonable complaint. A withered leaf, a glove, and a fan; these
represented the sum of his romance.

Two figures moved in the garden beneath. At first he gave no attention
to them. But when the two heads came together swiftly, and then
separated, both smiling, he realized that he had witnessed a kiss. Ah,
here was the opportunity; and, by the Lord Harry, he would not let it
slip. If this fellow meant wrongly toward Gretchen--and how could he
mean else?--he, Carmichael, would take the matter boldly in his hands
to do some caning. He laughed. Here would be another souvenir; to have
caned--

He jumped to his feet, dropped his pipe on the sill of the window, and
made for his hat and sword-cane. The clerk went on with his writing.
Nothing the consul did these days either alarmed or distracted him.

To gain the garden Carmichael would have to pass through the tavern. The
first person he encountered was Colonel von Wallenstein. The sight of
this gentleman changed his plans for the moment. He had a presentiment
that this would became rather a complicated affair. He waited.
Wallenstein spoke to Fraeu Bauer, who answered him with cold civility.
She heartily despised this fine officer. Wallenstein twirled his
mustache, laughed and went into the garden. Carmichael was in a
quandary. What should he do?

Neither Gretchen nor the vintner saw Wallenstein, who remained quietly
by the door. He watched them with an evil smile. He would teach this
pretty fellow a lesson. After some deliberation he walked lightly toward
the lovers. They did not hear him till he was almost upon them.

"A pretty picture!"

Gretchen colored and the vintner flushed, the one with dismay and the
other with anger.

"A charming idyl!"

"Leave us, Gretchen," said the vintner, with a deceiving gentleness.

Gretchen started reluctantly down the path, her glance bravely before
her. She knew that Wallenstein would not move; so she determined to go
round him. She was not afraid to leave her vintner alone with this
officer. But she miscalculated the colonel's reckless audacity. As she
stepped off the path to go round him he grasped her rudely and kissed
her on the cheek. She screamed as much in surprise as in anger.

And this scream brought Carmichael upon the scene. He was witness to the
second kiss. He saw the vintner run forward and dash his fist into the
soldier's face. Wallenstein, to whom such an assault was unexpected,
fell back, hurt and blinded. The vintner, active as a cat, saw
Carmichael coming on a run. He darted toward him, and before Carmichael
could prevent him, dragged the sword-cane away. The blade, thin and
pliant, flashed. And none too soon. The colonel had already drawn his
saber.

"Save him!" Gretchen wrung her hands.

The two blades met spitefully, and there were method and science on both
sides. But the sword-cane was no match for the broad, heavy saber. Half
a dozen thrusts and parries convinced the colonel that the raging youth
knew what he was doing. Down swooped the saber cuttingly. The blade of
the sword-cane snapped like a pipe-stem. The vintner flung the broken
part at the colonel's head. The latter dodged it and came on, and there
was death's intent.

Meantime Carmichael had found a short hop-pole, and with this he took a
hand in the contest. The pole was clumsy, but the tough wood was
stronger than steel. He hit the saber with good-will. Back came the
steel. The colonel did not care whom or what he struck at now. When
Carmichael returned the compliment he swung his hop-pole as the old
crusaders did their broadswords. And this made short work of the duel.
The saber dropped uninjured, but the colonel's arm dangled at his side.
He leaned back against the arbor, his teeth set in his lip, for he was
in agony. Carmichael flung aside his primitive weapon, his anger abated
none.

"You're a fine example of a soldier! Are you mad to attack a man this
way? They will break you for this, or my name's not Carmichael. You
couldn't leave her in peace, could you? Well, those two kisses will
prove expensive."

"I shall kill you for this!"

"Bah! I have fought more times than you have years to your counting,"
with good Yankee spirit. "But if you think I'll waste my time in
fighting a duel with you, you're up the wrong tree."

"Go to the devil!"

"Not just at present; there's too much for me to do. But this is my
advice to you: apply for a leave of absence and take the waters of
Wiesbaden. They are good for choleric dispositions. Now, I return the
compliment: go to the devil yourself, only choose a route that will not
cross mine. That's all!"

Gretchen and the vintner had vanished. Carmichael agreed that it was the
best thing for them to do. The vintner was no coward, but he was
discreet. Somebody might ask questions. So Carmichael returned to the
consulate, equally indifferent what the colonel did or where he went. Of
the vintner he thought: "The hot-headed young fool, to risk his life
like that!" He would see later what he meant in regard to Gretchen. Poor
little goose-girl! They would find that there was one man interested
enough in her welfare to stand by her. His hands yet stung from the
contact of wood against steel, and his hair was damp at the edges. This
was a bit of old war-times.

"Are you hurt, Excellency?" asked the clerk solicitously.

"Hurt?"

"Yes. I heard a woman scream and ran to the window. It was a good fight.
But that fellow-_ach!_ To run away and leave you, an outsider, to fight
his battle!"

"He would have been sliced in two if I hadn't come to the front. A
hop-pole isn't half bad. I'll bet that lady's man has a bad arm for some
time to come. As for the vintner, he had good reasons for taking to his
heels."

"Good reasons?" But there was a sly look in the clerk's eyes.

"No questions, if you please. And tell no one, mind, what has taken
place."

"Very well, Excellency." And quietly the clerk returned to his table of
figures. But later he intended to write a letter, unsigned, to his
serene highness.

Carmichael, scowling, undertook to answer his mail, but not with any
remarkable brilliancy or coherency.

And in this condition of mind Grumbach found him; Grumbach, accompanied
by the old clock-mender from across the way, and a Gipsy Carmichael had
never seen before.

"What's up, Hans?"

"Tell your clerk to leave us," said Grumbach, his face as barren of
expression as a rock.

"Something serious, eh?" Carmichael dismissed the clerk, telling him to
return after the noon hour. "Now, then," he said, "what is the trouble?"

"I have already spoken to you about it," Grumbach returned. "The matter
has gone badly. But I am here to ask a favor, a great favor, one that
will need all your diplomacy to gain for me."

"Ah"

"For myself I ask nothing. A horrible blunder has been made. You will go
to the grand duke and ask immunity for this Gipsy and this clock-mender,
as witnesses to the disclosure which I shall make to his highness.
Without this immunity my lips will be sealed for ever. As I said, I ask
nothing for myself, nothing. There has been a great blunder and a great
wrong, too; but God sent me here to right it. Will you do this?"

"But I must know--," began Carmichael.

"You will know everything, once you obtain this concession from the
duke."

"But why don't you want immunity for yourself?"

"There must be some one for the duke to punish," heroically; "otherwise
he will refuse."

"Still, suppose I bargain for you, too?"

"When you tell him my name is Breunner there will be no bargaining."

"What has this clock-mender to do with the case?"

"He is Count von Arnsberg."

"By George! And this Gipsy?"

"The man who bribed me. Arnsberg is an innocent man; but this has to be
proved, and you are going to help us prove it."

All this was in English; the Gipsy and the former chancellor understood
little or nothing.

"I will do what I can, Hans, and I will let you know the result after
dinner to-night."

"That will be enough. But unless he concedes, do not tell him our names.
That would be ruin and nothing gained."

"You have me a bit dazed," Carmichael admitted. "I ought to know what
this blunder is, to have something to stand on."

Grumbach shook his head. "Later every question will be answered. And
remember, at this interview Herbeck must not be present. It will have to
be broken to him gently."

"Very well; I promise to see his highness this afternoon."

Grumbach translated the substance of this dialogue to his companions.
They approved. The three of them solemnly trooped out, leaving
Carmichael bewildered. Alone, his mind searched a thousand channels, but
these were blind and led nowhere. Blunder, wrong? What did Grumbach mean
by that? What kind of a blunder, and who was innocently wronged? No
use! And while he was thus racking his mind he heard steps on the
stairs. These steps were hurried. The door above shut noisily.

"By George! I'll attend to that this minute. We'll see what stuff this
yellow-haired boy is made of."

He mounted the stairs without sound. He grasped the handle of the door,
boldly pushed it open, and entered, closing the door and placing his
back against it.

The instant he saw the intruder the vintner snatched a pistol from the
drawer in the table and leveled it at Carmichael.

"Surely your majesty will not shoot an old friend?"

[Illustration: "Surely your Majesty will not shoot an old friend?"]

Q: Can you write an appropriate summary of the above paragraphs?
A:

completion: Next stop? The stables. Talone and Ani persuade the stable-master to give them some horses to ride on their journey. As luck would have it, many of the horses are already gone with the king and his men, so Ani gets stuck with the bay that Geric had trouble with on the first day. The stable-master doesn't think it's a good idea, but Ani insists. And they're off--with horses, clothes, and the location, the group all head to the king's other estate. As they ride, Talone reassures Ani that she's got the truth on her side, but Ani's worried about Selia's people-speaking gift. They talk over the impending war, and everyone realizes that Bayern will crush Kildenree like a bug if it goes forward. Enna asks Ani to tell them a story about war, so Ani recites one about women going to battle and men crying "vanquished!" Finn feels a little uneasy with the story, but Enna comforts him. Ani tells everyone to be careful--she doesn't want anyone to take risks because of her. Hey, Ani--it's a little late for that, don't you think? The next morning, Ani bathes in the river to get the layer of dirt off her body, and then she gets dressed in the green dress she took from Selia's room. Everyone recognizes that she is a princess when they see her; she's no longer a goose girl telling a story, but real-life, bona fide royalty. And it's time to ride and get her kingdom back.


prompt:
Chapter: The vintner slowly lowered the pistol till it touched the table; then he
released it.

"That is better, your Majesty."

"Why do you call me that?"

"Certainly I do not utter it as a compliment," retorted Carmichael
dryly.

"You speak positively."

"With absolute authority on the subject, sire. Your face was familiar,
but I failed at first to place it rightly. It was only after you had
duped me into going after the veiled lady that I had any real suspicion.
You are Frederick Leopold of Jugendheit."

"I shall not deny it further," proudly. "And take care how you speak to
me, since I admit my identity."

"Oho!" Carmichael gave rein to his laughter. "This is Ehrenstein; here
I shall talk to you as I please."

The king reddened, and his hand closed again over the pistol.

"I have saved your majesty twice from death. You force me to recall it
to your mind."

The king had the grace to lower his eyes.

"The first time was at Bonn. Don't you recollect the day when an
American took you out of the Rhine, an American who did not trouble
himself to come round and ask for your thanks, who, in truth, did not
learn till days after what an important person you were, or were going
to be?" There was a bite in every word, for Carmichael felt that he had
been ill-treated.

"For that moment, Herr, I thank you."

"And for that in the garden below?"

"For that also. Now, why are you here? You have not come for the purpose
of recalling these two disagreeable incidents to my mind."

"No." Carmichael went over to the table, his jaws set and no kindly
spirit in his eyes. "No, I have another purpose." He bent over the
table, and with his face close to that of the king, "I demand to know
what your intentions are toward that friendless goose-girl."

"And what is that to you?" said the king, the smoke of anger in his
eyes.

"It is this much: if you have acted toward her otherwise than
honorably--Well!"

"Go on; you interest me!"

"Well, I promise to break every bone in your kingly body. In this room
it is man to man; I recognize no king, only the physical being."

The king pushed aside the table, furious. No living being had ever
spoken to him like that before. He swung the flat of his hand toward
Carmichael's face. The latter caught the hand by the wrist and bore down
upon it. The king was no weakling. There was a struggle, and Carmichael
found himself well occupied for a time. But his age and build were in
his favor, and presently he jammed the king to the wall and pinioned his
arms.

"There! Will you be patient for a moment?"

"You shall die for this insult!" said the king, as quietly as his hard
breathing would allow. He saw flashes of red between his face and the
other's.

"I have heard that before. But how?" banteringly.

"I will waive my crown; man to man!"

"Sword-sticks, sabers or hop-poles? Come," savagely, "what do you mean
by the goose-girl?"

So intent on the struggle were they that neither heard the door open and
close.

"Yes, my dear nephew; what do you mean by Gretchen?"

Carmichael released the king, and with feline quickness stooped and
secured the pistol which had fallen to the floor. Not sure of the new
arrival's purpose, he backed to the wall. He knew the voice and he
recognized its owner.

"Put it in your pocket, Mr. Carmichael. And let us finish this
discussion in English, since there are many ears about the place."

"His royal highness?" murmured the king.

"Yes, sire! True to life!"

Carmichael dropped the pistol into a pocket, and the king smoothed down
his crumpled sleeves.

"A fine comedy!" cried Herr Ludwig jovially, folding his arms over his
deep chest. "A rollicking adventure! Where's the story-book to match it?
A kingdom, working in the dark, headless; fine reading for these
sneaking journalists! Thunder and blazes!" with an amiability which had
behind it a good leaven of despair. "Well, nephew, you have not as yet
answered either Mr. Carmichael's question or my own. What do you mean by
Gretchen?"

"I love her," nobly. "And well for you, my uncle, that you come as you
do. I would have married her! Wrong her? What was a crown to me who,
till now, have never worn one save in speech? _You_ have been the king."

"Bodies must have heads, kingdoms must have kings. I have tried an
experiment, and this is the result. I wanted you to be a man, a human
man; I wanted you to grow up unfettered by power; I wanted you to mingle
with peoples, here and there, so, when you became their head physician,
you could ably minister to their political diseases. And all this fine
ambition tumbles down before the wooden shoes of a pretty goose-girl.
Nothing makes so good a philosopher as a series of blunders and
mistakes. I am beaten; I admit it. I did my best to save you from this
tangle; but it was written that you should put your foot in it. But on
top of this you have made a greater mistake than you dream of, nephew.
The Princess Hildegarde is as fine a woman as ever your Gretchen. Mr.
Carmichael will agree to that," maliciously.

Carmichael gave no sign that he understood; but there was no mistaking
the prince regent's inference, however. The recipient of this compliment
stubbornly refused to give the prince the satisfaction of seeing how
neatly the barb had gone home.

"But, Mr. Carmichael, what is _your_ interest in Gretchen?"

Carmichael trembled with joy. Here was an opening for a double shot. "My
interest in her is better than yours, for I have not asked her to become
a king's mistress."

His royal highness bit his lip.

"Uncle!" cried the king, horrified at this revelation.

"Mr. Carmichael evidently has applied his ear to some keyhole."

"No, thank you! The window was open. My clerk heard you plainly."

"Uncle, is this damnable thing true?"

"Yes. What would you? You were determined to make a fool of yourself.
But rest easy. She is ignorant where this offer came from, and,
moreover, she spurned it, as Mr. Carmichael's clerk will affirm. Oh,
Gretchen is a fine little woman, and I would to God she was of your
station!" And the mask fell from the regent's face, leaving it bitter
and careworn. "Our presence is known in Dreiberg; it has been known for
three days at least. And in coming up here I had another errand. Oh, I
haven't forgotten it. In the street there are at least ten soldiers
under the sub-chief of the police; rather a curious conjunction."

The king turned white. So it had come at last!

Carmichael ran to the rear window. He shrugged. "There's half a dozen in
the garden, too."

"Is there any way to the roofs?"

"None that would serve you."

"Mr. Carmichael," said the king, offering his hand, his handsome face
kindly and without rancor, "I should be an ungrateful wretch if I did
not ask your full pardon. I am indebted to you twice for my life, little
as it amounts to. And in my kingdom you will always be welcome. Will
you accept my hand, as one man to another?"

"With happiness, your Majesty. And I ask that you pardon my own hasty
words."

"Thank you."

"He is only young," sighed Ludwig.

The king emptied the drawer, put the contents in his pack, tied the
strings, and put it under his arm.

"What are you going to do?" asked the uncle, vaguely perturbed.

"I am going down to the soldiers. I am no longer a vintner, I am a
king!" And he said this in a manner truly royal.

"_Gott!_" burst from the prince regent. "This boy has marrow in his
bones, after all!"

"As you will find, dear uncle, the day after the coronation. You will,
of course, go down to them with me?"

"As I am your uncle! But the incarceration will not be long," Ludwig
grumbled. "There are ten thousand troops on the other side of the
passes, and they have been there ever since I learned that you had gone
a-wooing."

"Ten thousand? Well, they shall stay there," said the king
determinedly. "I shall not begin my reign with war. I am in the wrong; I
had no business to be here. Technically I have broken the treaty, though
not in spirit."

"What will you do?"

"Tell the duke the truth. He will not dare go far."

"He will be a good politician, too," said Ludwig, with a smile of
approval at Carmichael. "No, boy, there will be no war. And yet I was
prepared for it; nor was I wrong in doing so. Already, but for Herbeck,
there would be plenty of fighting in the passes. _Ach!_ Could you but
see the princess!"

"I have seen her," replied the king. "Heaven would have been kinder had
I seen her months ago."

"Say to his serene highness, then, that you are willing to marry her."

"I'm afraid you do not understand, uncle," the king replied sadly. "I
have the supreme happiness to love and to be loved. Of that nothing can
rob me. And for some time to come, uncle mine, I shall treasure that
happiness."

"And the little Gretchen?"

"Yes, yes! I have been a scoundrel." And the king's eyes grew moist.
"You are happy, Mr. Carmichael; you have no crown to weigh against your
love."

"Has he not?" mocked Ludwig.

"That, uncle, is neither kind nor gallant."

And from that moment Carmichael's heart warmed toward the young man,
whose sorrow was greater than his own. For the king was giving up the
woman who loved him, while Carmichael was only giving up the woman he
loved, which is a distinction.

"I ask Mr. Carmichael's pardon," said Prince Ludwig frankly. "But my
temper has been sadly tried. Will you grant me a favor?"

"If it is in my power," said Carmichael.

"Go at once to our embassy and notify them what has taken place."

"I will do that at once. If only I could find some way for you to
escape!"

"There is none," said the king. "Come, uncle; let us see what is going
on down-stairs."

Carmichael followed them down.

"There they are, men!" cried the sub-chief. "You are under arrest!"

"I am the king of Jugendheit," calmly announced Frederick Leopold.
"Will you subject me to public arrest?"

"And I," said the uncle, "am Ludwig, prince regent. Let us go to prison
as quickly as possible, blockheads!"

The sub-chief laughed uproariously, and even the disciplined soldiers
smiled. The king of Jugendheit and the prince regent! This was a good
joke, indeed!

"Your majesty and your royal highness," said the sub-chief, his eyes
twinkling, "will do me, a poor sub-chief of the police, the honor of
accompanying me to the Stein-schloss."

"Lead on, lead on!" cried Ludwig. "But wait! I forgot. There can be no
harm in asking why we are arrested."

"You are accused of being military spies from Jugendheit. That is
sufficient for the present."

"Frederick, they do not believe us. So much the better!" Ludwig pursed
his lips into a whistle.

"May I retain this bundle?" inquired the king.

"Yes. I know what is in it. Forward, march!"

The soldiers formed into a square, and in the center the prisoners were
placed. Carmichael made as though to protest, but Prince Ludwig signed
for him to be silent.

"Remember!" he said.

The king looked in vain for Gretchen. Then he beckoned to Carmichael,
and whispered brokenly: "If you see her, do not tell her what has
happened. Better to let her think that I have gone. And she will see
nothing in the arrest of the king of Jugendheit."

"I promise."

The troop marched along the street, followed by many curious ones, and
many heads popped in and out of the gabled windows. Carmichael watched
them till they veered round a corner, and then he returned to the
consulate. There he left a note for the clerk, telling him that he would
not be in the office again that day. Directly after, he hurried off to
the Jugendheit embassy.

An hour later Gretchen appeared before Fraeu Bauer. Gretchen had gone
home immediately after the termination of the fight in the garden. It
had been the will of her lord and master for her to remain at home
throughout the day; but this she could not do. She was worried.

"He was not hurt, Fraeu?" she asked timidly.

"Oh, no! The two of them gave themselves up readily. They are snug in
the Stein-schloss by this time."

"The Stein-schloss!" Gretchen blanched. "Holy Mother, what has
happened?"

"Why, your vintner and Herr Ludwig were arrested an hour ago, accused of
being spies from Jugendheit."

"It is a lie!" cried Gretchen hollowly. She groped blindly for the door.

"Where are you going, Gretchen?" Fraeu Bauer inquired anxiously.

"To her highness! She will save him!"

Her highness was dreaming. She had fallen into this habit of late. A
flame in the fireplace, a cloud in the sky, a dash of rain on the
window, all these drew her fancy. What the heart wishes the mind will
dream. Sunshine was without, clear, brilliant; shadow was within,
mellow, nebulous. But to-day her dream was short. A maid of honor
announced that the young woman Gretchen sought her presence.

"Admit her. She will be a tonic," said Hildegarde.

Gretchen appeared, red-eyed and disheveled. Instantly she flung herself
at the feet of the princess.

"Why, Gretchen!"

"They will not let me see him, Highness!" Gretchen choked.

"What has happened, child?"

"They have arrested him as a spy from Jugendheit, and he is innocent.
Save him, Highness!"

"How can I save him?"

"He is not a spy."

"That must be proved, Gretchen. I can not go to the Stein-schloss and
order them to liberate him." She lifted Gretchen to her feet.

"I have been there, and they will not let me see him. I love him so!"

"I can arrange that for you. I will go with you myself to the prison."

"Thanks, Highness, thanks!" Gretchen was hysterical.

The Stein-schloss had been the feudal keep; now it served as the city
prison. Its grim gray stones were battle-scarred and time-worn; a place
of deep dungeons, huge bolts and bars, and narrow slits in the stone for
windows. The prison was both civil and military, but was patrolled and
sentineled by soldiers. The king and his uncle had been given adjoining
cells on the ground floor. These cells were dry, and light entered from
the modern windows in the wall of the corridor. The princess and her
protegee were admitted without objection. The sergeant in charge of that
floor even permitted them to go into the corridor unattended.

Voices.

"Hush!" whispered her highness, pressing Gretchen's arm.

"_Ach!_ Wail, dear nephew, beat your hands upon the bars, curse, waste
your breath on stone. Did I not warn you against this very thing when
you proposed this mad junket? Well, there are two of us. A fine scandal!
They will laugh at us for months to come."

"Woe to the duke for this affront!"

Gretchen started to speak, but the princess quickly put her hand over
the goose-girl's mouth.

"Ha! So war is gathering in your veins?"

"I will have revenge for this!"

"Good! Bang--bang! Slash and cut! War is a great invention--on paper.
Come, my boy; you were sensible enough when they brought us here.
Control yourself. Be a king in all the word implies. For my part, I
begin to see."

"And what do you see?"

"I see that the duke knows who we are, even if his police do not. He
will keep us here a day or two, and then magnanimously liberate us with
profuse apologies. We shall be escorted to the frontier with honors. His
highness loves a jest too well to let this chance escape. Besides, I see
in the glass the fine Italian hand of Herbeck. I have always heard that
he was a great statesman. Swallow your wrath, even if your tongue goes
down with it."

"Gretchen, Gretchen!" said the king.

Gretchen could stand it no longer. She wrenched herself free from the
grasp of the princess, who, with pitying heart, understood all now. Poor
unhappy Gretchen!

"Here I am, Leopold!" the goose-girl cried, pressing her body against
the bars and thrusting her hands through them.

"The devil!" murmured the man in the other cell.

"You here, Gretchen?" The king covered her hands with passionate
kisses.

"Yes, yes! They have made a dreadful mistake. You are no spy from
Jugendheit."

"No, Gretchen," said the voice from the next cell. "He is far worse than
that. He is the king, Gretchen, the king."

"Uncle!" in anguish.

"Let us have it over with," replied Prince Ludwig sadly.

"The king?" Gretchen laughed shrilly. "What jest is this, Leopold?"

The king, still holding her hands, looked down.

"Leopold?" plaintively.

Still he did not speak, still he averted his head. But God knew that his
heart was on the rack.

The princess, remaining in the background, not daring to interfere, felt
the smart of tears in her eyes. Ah, the poor tender little goose-girl!
The pity of it! This king was a scoundrel.

"Leo, look at me! You are laughing! Why, did we not work together in the
vineyards, and did we not plan for the future? _Ah_, yes! You are a king
only to me. I see. But it is a cruel jest, Leopold. Smile at me! Say
something!" Gretchen was hanging to the bars now; her body, held in the
vise of growing terror, was almost a dead weight.

"Gretchen, forgive me!" despairingly.

"He asks me to forgive him!" dully. "For what?"

"For being a villain! Yes," his voice keen with agony. "I _am_ the king
of Jugendheit. But am I less a man for that? Ah, God help me, I have a
right to love like other men! Do not doubt me, Gretchen; do not think
that I played with you. I love you better than my crown, better than my
honor!"

"Take care, nephew!" came Prince Ludwig's warning. "Some one else is
near."

"I care not! Before all the world I would gladly proclaim it. I love
her. I swear that I shall never marry, that my heart is breaking!
Gretchen, Gretchen! My God, she is falling! Help her!" wildly; and he
shook the bars with supernatural strength till his hands were bleeding.

But Gretchen did not answer.

Q: Can you write an appropriate summary of the above paragraphs?
A:

completion: Ani and posse ride quickly for a day, hoping to get to the king in time. When Ani starts to feel a little uncertain of herself, Talone reminds her of Falada's last words to her: Princess. Once they arrive, Ani announces herself as Princess Napralina-Victery Talianna Isilee, a.k.a. her younger sister--she figures she's got a better chance of getting before the king that way rather than telling the truth. No one moves a muscle. If she's Princess Napralina, how come they haven't heard about her coming before this? Ani apologizes and asks to speak to the king--her sister's getting married and she's traveled a long way to see it. The guards agree to let Ani in to see the king, but without her guard and crew; Talone protests, but Ani knows it's her only chance. Inside the gate, Ungolad, Selia, and other Kildenrean guards greet her. Uh-oh. She's got nowhere to run, but just then--there's a knock at the door. The king heard about the princess's arrival and wants to greet her. The king and his fellows come in the room, including Geric, who's a little confused when he sees Ani, to say the least. Ani explains that she is the real Princess Anidori-Kiladra Talianna Isilee, and this other chick was her lady in waiting. Of course Selia denies it and makes up another story, one far more convincing, about how Ani is a runaway from the forest and a little confused. An attendant suggests the little prince be dismissed since he's getting tired, but Ani thinks he should stay and hear who his bride is. Wait a second... Princess Anidori-Kiladra isn't engaged to the little obnoxious, thirteen-year-old prince... she's betrothed to Prince Geric. Huh? So this whole time, Ani's been falling for the prince that she's supposed to marry? No wonder Geric sent her that cryptic note about love back when she was a goose girl. Amid all this identity theft, the Prime Minister jumps in and says the king should really be thinking more about the war with Kildenree, but Ani coughs up the truth about that too--it's all a ruse started by Selia. No one's really sure who to believe. It's all one big he said, she said mess. The king asks Selia what the punishment for treason is in her country, and while she knows it's banishment, Selia instead says it involves being thrown in a barrel full of nails and dragged through the streets by horses. Ouch. Geric suggests he and his dad leave all the Kildenreans together alone to talk over matters--it's not really Bayern's concern right now who is who and all that. Ani's hurt and confused. These people are murderers and she doesn't want to be left alone with them, but Geric tells her it's for the best and leaves.


prompt:
Chapter: Carmichael tramped about his room, restless, uneasy, starting at sounds.
Half a dozen times his cigar had gone out, and burned matches lay
scattered on the floor. He was waiting for Grumbach and his confreres.
Now he looked out of a window, now he spun the leaves of a book, now he
sat down, got up, and tramped again. Anything but this suspense. A full
day! The duel in the _Biergarten_; the king of Jugendheit and the prince
regent in the Stein-schloss; the flight of the ambassador to the palace,
more like a madman than one noted for his calm and circumspection;
Gretchen carried into the palace in a dead faint, and her highness
weeping; the duke in a rage and brought over only after the hardest
struggle Carmichael had ever experienced. And deeper, firmer, became his
belief and conviction that Grumbach's affair vitally concerned her
highness. What blunder had been made? He would soon know. He welcomed
the knock on his door. Grumbach came in, carrying under his arm a small
bundle. He was pale but serene, like a man who had put his worldly
affairs in order.

"Well, Captain, what did his Highness say?"

"Where are your companions?"

"They are waiting outside."

"The duke agrees. He will give us an audience at eight-thirty. I had a
time of it!"

"Did you mention my name

"No. I went roundabout. I also obtained his promise to say nothing to
Herbeck till the interview was over. Again he demurred, but his
curiosity saved the day. Now, Hans, the full story."

Grumbach spread out on the bed the contents of the bundle.

"Look at these and tell me what you see, Captain."

Carmichael inspected the little yellow shoes. He turned them over and
over in his hand. He shook out the folds of the little cloak, and the
locket fell on the bed.

"When did you get this?" he cried excitedly. "It is her highness'!"

"So it is, Captain; but I have carried it about me all these years."

"What?"

"Yes, Captain. Count von Herbeck is a great statesman, but he made a
terrible mistake this time. Listen. As sure as we are in this room
together, I believe that she whom we call the princess is not the
daughter of the grand duke."

Carmichael sat down on the edge of the bed, numb and without any clear
idea where he was. From the stony look on his face, Grumbach might have
carried the head of Medusa in his hand. The blood beat into his head
with many strange noises. But by and by the world became clearer and
brighter till all things took on the rosal tint of dawn. Free! If she
was not a princess, she was free, free!

The duke allowed the quartet to remain standing for some time. He strode
up and down before them, his eyes straining at the floor, his hands
behind his back. He was in fatigue-dress, and only the star of
Ehrenstein glittered on his breast. He was never without this order. All
at once he whirled round, and as a sailor plunges the lead into the
sea, so he plumbed the very deeps of their eyes as if he would see
beforehand what strange things were at work in their souls. "I do not
recognize any of these persons," he said to Carmichael.

"Your highness does not recognize me, then?" asked the clock-mender.

"Come closer," commanded the duke. The clock-mender obeyed. "Take off
those spectacles." The duke scanned the features, and over his own came
the dawn of recollection. "Your eyes, your nose--Arnsberg, here and
alive? Oh, this is too good to be true!" The duke reached out toward the
bell, but Carmichael interposed.

"Your highness will remember," he warned.

"Ha! So you have trapped me blindly? I begin to understand. Who is this
fellow Grumbach? Did I offer immunity to him?"

"I am Hans Breunner, Highness, and I ask for nothing."

"Breunner? Breunner? Hans Breunner, brother of Hermann, and you put
yourself into my hands?" The tone developed into a suppressed roar. The
duke took hold of Hans by the shoulders and drew him close. "You dog! So
you ask for nothing? It shall be given to you. To-morrow morning I shall
have you shot! Hans Breunner! God is good to me this night! Thanks, Herr
Carmichael, a thousand thanks! And I need not ask who that damnable
scoundrel is who has the black face and heart of a Gipsy. When I
recollect what I have suffered at your hands! If only the late king were
here, my joy would be complete!"

"Your Highness," said Von Arnsberg quietly, "all I have left in the
world are these two withered hands, and may God cut them off if they
ever wronged you in any act. I am innocent. Those letters purported to
have been written by me were forgeries. I could not prove this, so I
have been outlawed, with the sentence of death over my head. But
to-night I shall leave this palace a free man, and you shall ask pardon
for the wrong you have done me."

There was no fear in the voice; there was nothing but confidence. The
duke glared at the speaker somberly, recalling what Herbeck had often
said.

"What you say still remains to be proved. Now, what is at the bottom of
all this?" was the demand. "You men have not obtained this interview for
the sake of affirming your innocence. Herr Carmichael, here, declared to
me on honor that you were in possession of a great secret. Out with it,
without any more useless recrimination."

Hans replied not in words but in actions. He crossed the room to the
duke's desk and spread out his treasures under the flickering
candlelight. The duke, with a cry of terror, sprang toward the secret
drawer. His first thought was that the shoes and cloak, upon which only
his eyes ever rested now, had been stolen. He straightened. Nothing was
missing. He glanced from face to face, from the articles on the desk to
those in the drawer. He was overwhelmed. But he steadied himself; it was
no moment for physical weakness. Slowly, ignoring every one, he came
back to the desk and fingered the locket. Just then it was exceedingly
quiet in the room, save that each man heard the quick breathing of his
neighbor. The duke opened the locket, looked long and steadfastly at the
portrait, and shut it. Then he went to the drawer again and returned
with the counterparts. He laid them side by side. The likeness was
perfect in all details.

"Carmichael," he said, "will you please help me? My eyes are growing
old. Do I see these things, or do I not? And if I do, which is mine, and
what does this signify?" The tremor in his voice was audible.

Grumbach answered. "This, Highness. I took these from the little
princess with my own hands. They have never been out of my keeping.
Those you have I know nothing about."

The duke rubbed his eyes. "My daughter?"

"The Princess Hildegarde is not your daughter, Highness," said Hans
solemnly.

"_Gott_!" The duke smote the desk in despair, a despair which wrung the
hearts of those who witnessed it. "Herbeck! I must send for Herbeck!"

"Not yet, Highness; later," Grumbach said.

"But if not Hildegarde--I believe I must be growing mad!"

"Patience, your Highness!" said Carmichael.

"Patience!" wearily. "You say patience when my heart is dying inside my
breast? Patience? Who, then, is this woman I have called my child?"

"God knows, Highness!" Hans stood bowed before this parental agony.

"But what proof have you that she is not? What proof, I say?"

"Would there be two lockets, Highness?"

"More proof than this will be needed. Produce it. Prolong this agony of
doubt not another instant."

"Speak," said Hans to the Gipsy, who was viewing the drama with the
nonchalance of a spectator rather than a participant.

"Highness," said the Gipsy, bowing, "he speaks truly. He came with us.
For fear that the little highness might be recognized as we traveled, we
changed her clothes. He took them, together with the locket. One day the
soldiers appeared in the distance. We all fled. We lost the little
highness, and none of us ever knew what became of her. She wore the
costume of my own children."

"We shall produce that in time," said Von Arnsberg.

"Damnable wretch!" said the duke, addressing the Gipsy.

The other shrugged. He had been promised immunity; that was all he cared
about, unless it was the bag of silver and gold this old clock-mender
had given him a few hours gone.

"I am summoning her highness," said the duke, as he struck the bell.

"And, Highness," added Grumbach, "despatch some one for Gretchen, who
lives at number forty the Krumerweg."

"The goose-girl? What does _she_ know? Ah, I remember. She is even now
with her highness. I shall send for them both."

Gretchen? Carmichael's bewilderment increased. What place had the
goose-girl in this tragedy?

"Now, while we are waiting," resumed the duke, his agitation somewhat
under control, "the proof, the definite proof!"

"Her highness stumbled one night," said Hans, "and fell upon the fire. I
snatched her back, but not before her left arm was badly burned."

The Gipsy nodded. "I saw it, Highness."

And that was why Grumbach went to the military ball with opera-glasses!
Carmichael was round-eyed. But Gretchen?

"The Princess Hildegarde has no scar upon either arm," continued
Grumbach. "I have seen them. They are without a single flaw."

"More than that," reiterated the duke. "That is not enough."

They became silent. Now and then one or the other stirred. The duke
never took his eyes off the door through which her highness would enter.

She came in presently, tender with mercy, an arm supporting Gretchen,
who was red-eyed and white.

"You sent for us, father?"

How the word pierced the duke's heart! "Yes, my child," he answered; for
it mattered not who she was or whither she had come, he had grown to
love her.

"I am sorry you sent for Gretchen," said Hildegarde. "She is ill."

Gretchen sighed. To her the faces of the men were indistinct. And,
besides, she was without interest, listless, drooped.

"My child, will you roll up your left sleeve?" said the duke.

"My sleeve?" Hildegarde thoughtfully looked round. Roll up her sleeve?
What possessed her father?

"Do so at once."

"I can not roll up this sleeve, father," blushing and a trifle angry at
so strange a request.

Hans opened his knife and laid bare her left arm. She uttered a little
angry cry. "How dare you?" She tried to cover the arm.

"Let me look at it, Hildegarde," requested the duke.

To him she presented her arm, for she now understood that a serious
affair was in progress. But there was neither mole nor scar upon the
round and lovely arm.

"Why do you do this, father? What is the meaning?"

No one answered; no one had the heart to answer. Without waiting for the
duke to bid him continue, Hans unceremoniously ripped open Gretchen's
left sleeve. The ragged scar was visible to them all. And while they
grouped round the astonished goose-girl they heard her highness cry out
with surprise.

"What is this?" she said, pointing to the two pairs of shoes and the two
cloaks. She held up the locket, the twin of which hung round her neck.
"Where did these come from?"

"My child," the duke answered, unashamed of his tears, "only God knows
as yet what it means; but the outward sign testifies to a strange and
horrible blunder. The locket you hold in your hand was taken from you
when you were an infant. The one you wear round your neck is, according
to the statement of one of these men, not genuine."

"And the significance?" She grew tall, and the torn sleeve fell away
from her arm.

"That what is done must be all undone. I know you to be brave.
Strengthen your heart, then. I stand before you the most wretched man in
all this duchy. These men affirm that I am not your father. They say
that you are not my daughter."

"And that Gretchen is!" spoke Hans. His conscience was costing every one
something dear.

"I?" Gretchen drew closer to Hildegarde.

The duke studied the portrait of the mother and then the faces of these
two girls. Both possessed a resemblance, only it seemed now that
Gretchen was nearest to the portrait and Hildegarde nearest to the
doubt.

"You say she wore the costume of a Gipsy child when you lost her?" said
the duke.

"Yes." Von Arnsberg took from under his coat a small bundle which he
opened with shaking fingers. He had been in the Krumerweg that
afternoon.

"Why, those are mine!" exclaimed Gretchen excitedly.

"You see?" said Von Arnsberg. "Would you not like to be a princess,
Gretchen?"

A princess? Gretchen's heart fluttered. A princess? She saw the king
shaking the bars of his cell; she heard his voice calling out his love
for her. A princess? She laid her head on Hildegarde's shoulder. She was
weak, and this was some dream.

"But who, then, am I?" asked Hildegarde. There was no sign of weakness
here.

Again there was no answer.

"Tell what you know," said Hans to the Gipsy. "Highness, he alone knows
the man who brought about all this."

"The archplotter of this damnable conspiracy?" The duke's eyes became
alive, his face, his whole body. Every beat of his heart cried out for
vengeance. "Who is he? Tell me! Give him to me, man, and all of you
shall go free. Give him into these hands. His name!" The duke's hands
worked convulsively as if they were already round the throat of this
unseen, implacable enemy. He was terrible in this moment.

The Gipsy produced a letter. It had to be held carefully, as it was old
and tattered. The duke read it. Beyond that it made the original offer
it was worthless. The handwriting was palpably disguised. The duke flung
the missive to the floor.

"Fool! Is that all you have? Tell me what you know, man, or I shall have
you shot in the morning, immunity or no immunity! Quick!"

"Highness," said the Gipsy, thoroughly alarmed, "this is how it
happened. My band was staying at the time in Dreiberg. We told fortunes
and exhibited an Italian puppet-show. The letter came first. I was poor
and sometimes desperate. I was to take her away and leave her with
strange people."

"Ah!" interrupted the duke, with despairing gesture toward Grumbach,
"why did you not leave us all in peace?"

"Highness, a great wrong has been done, and God brought me here to right
it."

"You are a brave man," darkly.

"I am in your hands, Highness," sturdily. "In a mad moment I committed a
crime. I shall abide by whatever punishment you may inflict."

"Continue," said the duke to the Gipsy.

"Well, Highness, I would not accept till I had talked personally with
him. He came at last. His face was hidden and his voice muffled. But
this I saw; when he gave me the first half of the money I was certain I
should know him again."

"How?"

"By his little finger, Highness."

"His little finger?" Von Arnsberg repeated. The two women, large-eyed
and bewildered, clung to each other's hand tensely. These were
heart-breaking times. Gretchen's mind, however, absorbed nothing,
neither the words nor the picture. Her thoughts revolved round one
thing; if she were a princess she could be happy. But the other, from
under whose feet all tangible substances seemed to be giving way, she
was possessed by two thoughts which surged in her brain like combatants.
If not a princess, what was she? If not a princess, she was free. She
stole a swift glance at Carmichael, who seemed far removed from the
heart of this black business; and had he been looking at her he would
have seen the gates opening into Eden.

"What was this little finger like?" asked the duke, shuddering.

"One time it had been cut or mangled."

"The man was tall?"

"Yes, Highness."

The duke silently toyed with the little yellow shoes. Suddenly he
laughed; but it was the terrible laughter of a madman. There were death
and desolation in it.

"Come, all of you; you, Gretchen, and you, Hildegarde; come, Carmichael,
and you, Arnsberg; all of you! Let us go and pay a visit to our good
friend, Herbeck!"

Q: Can you write an appropriate summary of the above paragraphs?
A:

completion: Once all the Bayern peeps are gone, Selia and Ungolad celebrate their success. Their story worked. Phew. Selia tells Ani she's been waiting to rub her position in the real princess's face this whole time. It's such a thrill for Ani to see her--a lady in waiting--being a better princess than she ever was. Burn. Ani asks Selia where Yulan is, knowing full well that Talone killed him back at the palace. In a split second, it all makes sense to Selia--she notices Ani's dress and figures out Yulan is gone; she's upset, but gets over it quickly. Too bad the prince will still marry me, Selia counters--oh and by the way, that horse you love so much is dead, but Ungolad made sure he went mad first. Ungolad isn't so sure the prince will marry Selia, now that Ani has arrived on the scene though, so he and Selia hatch a new plan. He will cut Selia, and then when the Bayern people come back, they will claim Ani's gone mad and attacked poor Selia--if they kill Ani in the process, oh well. Someone shouts out that they'd better not lay a hand on Ani, but no one in the room is sure where this exclamation came from--then, from the curtains, Geric emerges and announces himself. He and his dad have been hiding in a secret passage this whole time and heard every word they said to one another. It was Geric's idea to figure all this out. Now that everyone knows their secret, Ungolad and Selia scramble to escape. They threaten the princess, then run at her with a sword, but Ani is too quick for them. She summons the wind to choke Ungolad until he falls to the ground, but even that doesn't stop him. Talone rushes in, fights with Ungolad, and several other men grab weapons and duke it out. Talone fights long and hard, but Ungolad strikes him down and Geric steps in. Even though Talone is safe, Ani worries--she doesn't want Ungolad to hurt Geric, and she doesn't get why everyone stops fighting and watches the prince and corrupt guard go at it. One of the guards explains to Ani: this is about Geric's honor since this is his first battle. Ani watches in fear, but eventually, Geric overcomes Ungolad, and the evil guard dies, uttering Selia's name as he does.


prompt:
Chapter: A LITTLE FINGER

The king of Jugendheit, Prince Ludwig, and the chancellor sat in the
form of a triangle. Herbeck was making a pyramid of his finger-tips,
sometimes touching his chin with his thumbs. His face was cheerful. His
royal highness, still in the guise of a mountaineer, sat stiffly in his
chair, the expression on his face hardly translatable; that on the
king's not at all. He was dressed in the brilliant uniform of a colonel
in the Prussian Uhlans, an honor conferred upon him recently by King
William. Prior to his advent into the Grand Duchy of Ehrenstein he had
been to Berlin. A whim, for which he was now grateful, had cozened him
into carrying this uniform along with him on his adventures. It was only
after he met Gretchen that there came moments when he forgot he was a
king. He was pale. From hour to hour his heart seemed to grow colder and
smaller and harder, till it now rested in his breast with the heaviness
of a stone, out of which life and the care of living had been squeezed.
He rarely spoke, leaving the burden of the conversation to rest upon his
uncle's tongue.

"So your royal highness will understand," said Herbeck, "that it was the
simplest move I could make, and the safest. Were it known, or had it
been known this morning, that the king of Jugendheit and the prince
regent had entered Dreiberg in disguise and had been lodged in the
Stein-schloss, there would have been a serious riot in the city. So I
had you arrested as spies. Presently a closed carriage will convey you
to the frontier, and the unfortunate incident will be ended."

"Thanks!" said Prince Ludwig.

"And when you cross the frontier, it would be wise to disperse the
troops waiting there for you."

Prince Ludwig smiled. "It was only an army of defense. The duke had
nearly twenty thousand men at the maneuvers. I have no desire for war;
but, on the other hand, I am always ready for it."

"There will never be any war between us," prophetically. "The duke
grows impatient at times, but I can always rouse his sense of justice.
You will, of course, pardon the move I made. There will be no publicity.
There will be no newspaper notoriety, for the journalists will know
nothing of what has really happened."

"For that consideration your excellency has my deepest thanks," replied
Prince Ludwig.

"I thought it best to let you go without seeing the duke. The meeting
between you two might be painful."

"That also is thoughtful of your excellency," said the king. "I have no
desire to see or speak to his highness."

"There is, however, one favor I should like to ask," said the prince.

"Can I grant it?"

"Easily. I wish to leave a sum of money in trust, to be paid to one
Gretchen Schwarz, who lives in the Krumerweg. She is ambitious to become
a singer. Let nothing stand between her and her desires."

"Granted."

The heart of the king, at the sound of that dear name, suddenly
expanded and stifled him. The stiffness went out of his shoulders.

"Ah, this little world of ours, the mistakes and futile schemes we make
upon it!" The chancellor dallied with his quill pen. "It was a cynical
move of fate that your majesty should see the goose-girl first."

"Enough!" cried the king vehemently. "Let us have no more retrospection,
if you please. Moreover, I shall be obliged to you if you will summon at
once the carriage which is to take us to the frontier. The situation has
been amicably and satisfactorily explained. I see no reason why we
should be detained any longer."

"Nor I," added Prince Ludwig. "I am rather weary of these tatters. I
should even like a bath."

The three of them were immediately attracted by a singular noise outside
in the corridor. The door swung in violently, crashing against the wall
and shivering into atoms the Venetian mirror. The king, the prince, and
the chancellor were instantly upon their feet. The king clutched the
back of his chair with a grip of iron: Gretchen? Her highness? What was
Gretchen doing here? Ah, could he have flown! He muttered a curse at the
chancellor for the delay. But happily Gretchen did not see him.

The duke came in first, and he waited till the others were inside; then
he shut the door with lesser violence and rushed over to the chancellor.

"Herbeck, you villain!"

The chancellor stared at the Gipsy, at Von Arnsberg, at Grumbach.

"Herbeck, you black scoundrel!" cried the duke. "Can you realize how
difficult it is not to take you by the throat and strangle you here and
now?"

"He is mad!" said Herbeck, bracing himself against the desk.

"Yes. I _am_ mad, but it is the sane madness of a terribly wronged man.
Come here, you Gipsy!" The duke seized Herbeck's hand and pressed it
down fiercely on the desk. "Look at that and tell me if it is not the
hand of a Judas!"

"That is the hand, Highness," said the Gipsy, without hesitation.

The duke flung the hand aside. As he did so something snapped in
Herbeck's brain, though at that instant he was not conscious of it.

"It was you, you! It was your hand that wrecked my life, yours! Ah, is
there such villainy? Are such men born and do they live? My wife dead,
my own heart broken, Arnsberg ruined and disgraced! And these two
children: which is mine?"

To the king of Jugendheit the ceiling reeled and the floor revolved
under his feet.

"Villain, what have you to say? What was your purpose?"

How many years, thought Herbeck, had he been preparing for this moment?
How long had he been steeling his heart against this very scene? Futile
dream! He drew himself together with a supreme effort. He would face
this hour as he had always planned to face it. Found out! He looked at
his finger, touched it with an impersonal curiosity. He had forgotten
all about such a possibility. Where had he read that there is no crime
but leaves some evidence, infinitesimally small though it be, which
shall lead to the truth? After all, he was glad. The strain, borne so
long, was gradually killing him. A little finger, to have stopped the
wheel of so great a scheme! Irony!

"Your Highness," he said, his voice soft and strangely clear, "I have
been waiting for this hour. So I am found out! How little we know what
God intends!"

"You speak of God? You blaspheme!"

"Bear with me for a space. I shall not hold you long."

"But why? What have I done to you that you should wreck all I hold
dear?"

"For you I have always had a strong affection, strange as it may sound."
Herbeck fumbled with his collar, which was tightening round his throat
like a band of hot iron. "I have practically governed this country for
sixteen years. In that time I have made it prosperous and happy; I have
given you a substantial treasury; I have made you an army; I have
brought peace where you would have brought war. To my people God will
witness that I have done my duty as I saw it. One day I fell the victim
of a mad dream. And to think that I almost won!"

"And I?" said Hildegarde, her hands clenched and pressed against her
bosom. "What have you done to me, who am innocent of any wrong? What
have you done to me?"

"You, my child? I have wronged you greatest of all. The wrong I have
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.

Q: Can you write an appropriate summary of the above paragraphs?
A:

completion: The fight is over, and the king tells Geric to stand up. He has just had his first kill, and this means he gets his javelin--he's now a man. In all the commotion, Selia slipped away through the secret door. The king orders: find the girl; secure the perimeter; and toss the girl in the barrel of nails and parade her around the city--just as she tried to do to Ani. Ani asks the king if he can also allow the boys who rode with her to get their shields and javelins, since they risked their lives for a princess and they deserve a chance. Just then, Conrad enters with Selia in tow--he captured her and brought her in, kicking and screaming. Everything seems to be settling down, and Ani is glad to get to sleep on a real mattress with pillows and everything. We get a little recap of where everyone is: Selia is captured; Talone is safe and resting with the doc; and the king and his men are all planning their attack on Kildenree. Wait, that's still on? Fuming, Ani heads over to where the men are gathered. She can't believe they are still planning this war--it's all Selia's concoction. The men show her letters detailing troops and military plans that Selia gave them, but Ani sees right through it. Selia's mom is the key-mistress in the palace, so she would have access to all this stuff--Selia just did it to lock herself and her little story in. Still the men persist, though. They don't want to give in so easily. Ani gives them a little history lesson. In the last three hundred years, Kildenree hasn't attacked any country because it's too small to deal with the fallout. Plus, why would her mom send her here if she was going to attack? What's more is the king doesn't even know his own country. There are peace-keepers in the city because his soldiers won't keep the streets safe. And how about the fact that forest workers can't even go in some taverns because they aren't allowed to get their javelin? It's not fair. They should be focusing on those things more, not this war dreamed up by a lady in waiting to wipe out anyone who might tell the truth about her. And with that, Ani leaves. An hour later, Geric comes to find her. She's right--everyone knows it. The war with Kildenree is ridiculous, and his dad has called it off. Ani thanks Geric for this, and for saving Talone's life. That brings Geric to his next question: Is there something going on between Talone and Ani? Ani assures him there isn't--Talone's just one of the only people who's actually been there for her that she can trust. Phew. This is great news for Geric, since he has already fallen for her, and hopes she feels the same way. Bingo. She was head over heels for him when she first stole his horse, way back when she was a goose girl. Geric couldn't be happier. Not only does he get to marry a princess, he loves her and she's so smart and knowledgeable about their country. How lucky is he? Ani's never realized that she's a catch before, and for the first time, she lets herself be told how great she is--not because of her status or birth, but because of who she is--and she believes it. Oh and by the way, the king has agreed to her request: the forest peeps can go for their javelin, just like the boys from Bayern. Enna comes over and tells Ani they're gonna call themselves the "Forest-band" or maybe the "yellow-band." Ani's vote is for the yellow one, since she's the yellow girl and all. She's finally excited for the power she can have as princess, and realizes she can use it to help people, instead of just to pretend being all fancy-pants. She looks forward to her wedding and ruling this country with her new friends all around her. And who knows? Maybe she'll get a new horse as a gift, and she'll hear its name.