eight is lifted
from the heart of the country. There is not a house that will not be
glad to-day." I was pleased at this, although rather surprised. Taking
thought with myself, I concluded that, although kingship had hitherto
failed to answer my private expectations and desires, yet it must be a
more important thing even in these days than I had come to suppose. I
put a question to my mother, pointing at one of the gardeners.

"If Josef's son was ill and I was ill," said I, "which would Josef wish
most to get better?"

"The King should be before a thousand sons to him," she answered
quickly, and in a proud, agitated voice. But a moment later she bade me
not ask foolish questions. I remember that I studied her face for some
moments. It was a little difficult to make out how she really felt about
me and my kingship.

Convalescence was a pleasant season. Styrian discipline was relaxed, and
I was allowed to do very nearly all that my strength enabled me.
Victoria shared in the indulgence of this time; I remember we agreed
that there would be something to be said for never getting quite well.
Had getting quite well meant going back to Krak, I should have felt this
point of view most strongly, but I was not to go back to Krak. There was
a talk of a governor, of tutors, and masters. Hammerfeldt came down and
had a long conversation with my mother. She came out from the interview
with flushed cheeks, seeming vexed and perturbed, but she was composed
again when the Prince took his leave, and said to him pleasantly:

"You mustn't take him away from me altogether, Prince."

"We rely on your influence above everything, madame," was Hammerfeldt's
courtly answer, but my mother watched his retreating figure with a
rather bitter smile. Then she turned to me and asked:

"Shall you be glad to have tutors?"

Krak was in the distance with Victoria; my mother perceived my eyes
travelling in that direction.

"Poor old Baroness! You never liked her, did you, Augustin?"

"No," said I, emboldened by this new and confidential tone.

"Try to think more kindly of her," she advised; but I saw that she was
not in the least aggrieved at my want of appreciation. "You don't like
women, do you?"

"Only you, and Victoria, and----" I hesitated.

"And Anna?"

"Oh, of course, old Anna."

"Well, and who else?"

"The Countess von Sempach," said I, a little timidly.

"Haven't you forgotten her?" asked my mother, and her smile became less
b