I felt it necessary. I do not. You would probably see
him anyhow, for that matter. Which, as I observed this afternoon, also
reminds me unpleasantly of your father." She rose, and threw her bolt
out of a clear sky. She had had, as a matter of fact, no previous
intention of launching any bolt. It was wholly a result of irritation.
"It is unnecessary to remind you not to make a fool of yourself. But it
may not be out of place to say that your grandfather has certain plans
for you that will take your mind away from this--this silly boy, soon
enough."

Hedwig had risen, and was standing, very white, with her hands on the
table. "What plans, mother?"

"He will tell you."

"Not--I am not to be married?"

The Archduchess Annunciata was not all hard. She could never forgive
her children their father. They reminded her daily of a part of her
life that she would have put behind her. But they were her children, and
Hedwig was all that she was not, gentle and round and young. Suddenly
something almost like regret stirred in her.

"Don't look like that, child," she said. "It is not settled. And, after
all, one marriage or another what difference does it make! Men are men.
If one does not care, it makes the things they do unimportant."

"But surely," Hedwig gasped, "surely I shall be consulted?"

Annunciata shook her head. They had all risen and Hilda was standing,
the peach forgotten, her mouth a little open. As for Olga Loschek, she
was very still, but her eyes burned. The Archduchess remembered her
presence no more than that of the flowers on the table.

"Mother, you cannot look back, and--and remember your own life, and
allow me to be wretched. You cannot!"

Hilda picked up her peach. It was all very exciting, but Hedwig was
being rather silly. Besides, why was she so distracted when she did not
know who the man was? It might be some quite handsome person. For Hilda
was also at the age when men were handsome or not handsome, and nothing
else.

Unexpectedly Hedwig began to cry. This Hilda considered going much too
far, and bad taste into the bargain. She slipped the peach into the
waist of her frock.

The Archduchess hated tears, and her softer moments were only moments.
"Dry your eyes, and don't be silly," she said coldly. "You have always
known that something of the sort was inevitable."

She moved toward the door. The two princesses and her lady in waiting
remained still until she had left the table. Then they f