I think, when he is alone in the truce of night, one
day's fight done and the new morning's battle not yet joined, he can
pause and stand and think. He can be still; then his worst and his best
steal out, like mice from their holes (the cat of convention is asleep),
and play their gambols and antics before his eyes: he knows them and
himself, and reaches forth to know the world and his work in it, his
life and the end of it, the difference, if any, that he has made by
spending so much pains on living.

It was four o'clock when a sleepy night-porter let me in. My servants
had orders never to wait beyond two, and in my rooms all was dark and
quiet. But when I lit a candle from the little lamp by the door, I saw
somebody lying on the sofa in my dressing-room, a woman's figure
stretched in the luxury of quiet sleep. Victoria this must be and none
else. I was glad to see her there and to catch her drowsy smile as her
eyes opened under the glare of my candle.

"What in the world are you doing here, my dear?" said I, setting down
the candle and putting my hands in my pockets.

She sat up, whisking her skirts round with one hand and rubbing her eyes
with the other.

"I came to tell you about Krak--Krak's come. But you weren't here. So I
lay down, and I suppose I went to sleep."

"I suppose you did. And how's Krak?"

"Just the same as ever!"

"Brought a birch with her, in case I should rebel at the last?"

Victoria laughed.

"Oh, well, you'll see her to-morrow," she remarked. "She's just the
same. I'm rather glad, you know, that Krak hasn't been softened by age.
It would have been commonplace."

"Besides, one doesn't want to exaggerate the power of advancing years.
You didn't come for anything except to tell me about Krak?"

Victoria got up, came to me, and kissed me.

"No, nothing else," she said. She stopped a moment, and then remarked
abruptly, "You're not a bit like William Adolphus."

"No?" said I, divining in a flash her thought and her purpose.
"Still--have you been with Elsa to-night?"

"Yes; after Cousin Elizabeth and mother left her. You--you'll be kind to
her? I told her that she was very silly, and that I wished I was going
to marry you."

"Oh, you did? But she wishes to marry me?"

"She means to, of course."

"Exactly. My dear, you've waited a long while to tell me something I
knew very well."

"I thought perhaps you'd be glad to see me," she said, with a little
laugh. "Where have you been? N