some confusion,
and (as I thought) with a reproachful glance at his wife.

"We have lost the Prince," said my mother, "but we can still be guided
by his example and his principles. To follow his counsels will be the
best monument you can raise to his memory, Augustin."

I kissed her hand and then she gave me her cheek. Going to Victoria, I
saluted her with brotherly heartiness. I never allowed myself to forget
that Victoria was very fond of me, and I never lost my affection for
her.

"Now don't be foolish, Augustin," she implored.

"What is being foolish?" I asked perversely.

"Oh, you know! You know very well what people say, and so do I."

"And poor old Hammerfeldt in heaven--does he know too?"

She turned away with a shocked expression. William Adolphus hid a
sheepish smile with a large hand. In the lower ranges of humour William
Adolphus sometimes understood one. I declined his offer of company over
a cigar, but bade him good-night with a mild gratitude; he desired to be
pleasant to us all, and the realization of his ambition presented
difficulties.

I was very tired and fell into a deep sleep almost the moment I was in
bed. At four o'clock in the morning I awoke. My fatigue seemed gone; I
did not think of sleeping again. The events of the day before came back
to me with an extraordinary vividness of impression, the outcome of
nerves strained to an unhealthy sensitiveness. It would have needed but
a little self-delusion, a little yielding to the current of my thoughts,
to make me see Hammerfeldt by my bed. The Countess and Wetter were in
mental image no less plain. I rose and pulled up the blinds; the night
had begun to pass from black to gray; for a moment I pictured the
Prince, not looking down from heaven, but wandering somewhere in such a
dim cold twilight. The message that his eyes had given me became very
clear to me. It had turned my cheek red; it sent an excitement through
me now. It would not go easily into words, but, as I sought to frame it,
that other speech came back to me--the speech of the Prince's enemy.
Wetter had said, "You're king at last." What else had Hammerfeldt meant
to say? Nothing else. That was his message also. From both it came, the
same reminder, the same exhortation. The living man and the dead joined
their voices in this brief appeal. It did not need my mother's despair
or Victoria's petulance to lend it point. I was amazed to find how it
came home to me. Now I perceived how