Waiting alone in the humble comfort of old Forsythe’s hovel, with the perilous faint traffic hum wafting in from outside, the still-proud Princess thought once more of the ‘Parisian Pirate’, Chrysalis-Kelly, the bold bandito who had been so gentle in her arms. He was now, according to that television program, struggling for life in the intensive care ward.
   At that moment came a confused chorus of greetings from the courtyard, and she shut her eyes tight for one moment of silent prayer. He was here! “Our love will outlast eternity, my giddy little goose!” he stammered.
   It was then that he once again began to woo her with the sensual voice of his Stradivarius, and as the truth — the whole truth — slowly came home to her, she wordlessly let her body melt against his own.