In a rather terrible attempt at calming himself, he stared into the eyes of the princess. Nothing stared back. And now, faced with an impossible situation, he could simply not recall what had brought him there. Had it been her warm personality? Certainly not, she was incapable of warmth. Perhaps it had been her wits? No, at the most she was clever, but not intelligent, and certainly not witty. Had it been her beauty? Most definitely. He felt a tinge of shame. He had only loved her for her looks. And again he looked at her, really looked at her this time and he saw her hand do a subtle gesture pointing him to the right. A large bead of sweat rolled on his forehead. He knew what she pointed him to. Would he do as she wished was the question?
As he stood in front of those towering doors, he thought of his time with the princess. At that moment he knew what he had to do to be forgiven for his vanity.
All he could do was scream.
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