"What is the matter, sweetheart?" asked the Princess, with ready
sympathy. "Your hands are quite cold! Are you ill?"

"The child! Something has happened to it--we do not know--it looks so
strange--its eyes are turned in and it is such a dreadful colour--do
come--"

But the Princess was already on her way, and he spoke the last words
as he ran after her. She turned her head as she went on.

"For heaven's sake send a doctor!" she cried to the Baroness, and in a
moment she was gone, with the weak young man close at her side.

The Baroness nodded quickly, and when all three reached the door she
left the two to go upstairs and ran down, with a tremendous puffing of
the invisible silk bellows.

"The Prince's little girl is very ill," she said, as she passed the
porter, who was now polishing the panes of glass in the door of his
lodge, because he had done the same thing every morning for twenty
years.

He almost dropped the dingy leather he was using, but before he could
answer, the cab passed out, bearing the Baroness on her errand.