The iron's temperature remained constant and the wrinkles smoothed down just as they should. There was no scorching of fabric, no burning of fingers. Ellen practically sang as she worked, and the stares of the other maids as she filled a basket with neatly ironed and folded linens couldn't dampen her spirits in the slightest. Even the soot that seemed to sift its way into the folds of her clothes and cover everything she touched was gone. 144 Her good mood was finally ruined, however, when she burst out of the passageway from the servants' domain and ran straight into Prince Christian. The basket of ironed linens between them, they gazed at each other, startled, for a moment. Ellen's heart began to race, and the blood thrummed in her ears so loudly that it took her a moment to understand what he was saying to her. When she finally comprehended his words, she felt her cheeks burn even hotter. "Pardon me," Prince Christian said again, and stepped around her. He whistled as he made his way to the water closet.
