ied behind the covers of
a magazine. Suddenly a yellow flame leaped from a pine log, and in it
I seemed to read all. Gretchen was proud and jealous. She believed
that I loved Phyllis and had made her a Princess because I loved her.
It was the first time I had laughed in many an hour. Pembroke looked
over his magazine.

"That sounds good. What caused it?"

"A story," I answered. "Some day I shall tell you all about it. Have
you noticed how badly I have gone about lately?"

"Have I!" he echoed. "If I haven't had a time of it, I should like to
know!"

"Well, it is all over," said I, placing a hand on his shoulder and
smiling into his questioning eyes. "Now if you will excuse me, cousin
mine, I'll make a call on her Serene Highness the Princess Hildegarde."

Just then the door opened and Pembroke's valet came in. He handed a
card to me, and I read upon it, "Count von Walden." I cast it into
Pembroke's lap.

"That's the man. He is the inseparable of the Prince of Wortumborg."
Then to the valet, "Show him up."

"What's it all about?" asked Pembroke.

"Honestly, I should like to run away," I said musingly. The snow on
the housetops across the way sparkled in the early moonshine. "It's
about a woman. If I live--ah!" I went to the door and swung it open.
The Count gravely passed over the threshold.

"Good evening," he said, with a look of inquiry at Pembroke.

"This gentleman," said I, as I introduced him, "will second me in the
affair to-morrow morning. I suppose you have come to make the final
arrangements?"

"Pardon me," began Pembroke, "but I do not understand--"

"Oh, I forgot. You are," I responded, "to be my second in a duel
to-morrow morning. Should anything happen to me, it were well to have
a friend near by, better still a relative. Well, Count?"

"The Prince desires me to inform you that he has selected pistols at
your request, and despite the fact that he has only the use of his left
hand, he permits you to use either of yours. There will be one shot
each, the firing to be drawn for on the grounds. The time is six, the
place one mile out on the north road, in the rear of the Strasburg inn.
I trust this is entirely satisfactory to you?"

"It is," I answered.

"Then allow me to bid you good night." He bowed and backed toward the
door. He remained a moment with his hand on the knob, gazing into my
eyes. I read in his a mixture of amusement and curiosity. "Good
night," and he