"A sadly troubled country," he repeated.

"All countries are troubled. We are no worse than others."

"Perhaps not. But things are changing. The old order is changing. The
spirit of unrest--I shall not live to see it. You may, Annunciata. But
the day is coming when all thrones will totter. Like this one."

Now at last he had pierced her armor. "Like this one!"

"That is what I said. Rouse yourself, Annunciata. Leave that little
boudoir of yours, with its accursed clocks and its heat and its
flub-dubbery, and see what is about you! Discontent! Revolution! We are
hardly safe from day to day. Do you think that what happened nine years
ago was a flash that died as it came? Nonsense. Read this!"

He held out the paper and she put on her pince-nez and read its
headings, a trifle disdainfully. But the next moment she rose, and stood
in front of him, almost as pale as he was. "You allow this sort of thing
to be published?"

"No. But it is published."

"And they dare to say things like this? Why, it--it is--"

"Exactly. It is, undoubtedly." He was very calm. "I would not have
troubled you with it. But the situation is bad. We are rather helpless."

"Not--the army too?"

"What can we tell? These things spread like fires. Nothing may happen
for years. On the other hand, tomorrow--!"

The Archduchess was terrified. She had known that there was disaffection
about. She knew that in the last few years precautions at the Palace had
been increased. Sentries were doubled. Men in the uniforms of lackeys,
but doing no labor, were everywhere. But with time and safety she had
felt secure.

"Of course," the King resumed, "things are not as bad as that paper
indicates. It is the voice of the few, rather than the many. Still, it
is a voice."

Annunciata looked more than her age now. She glanced around the room as
though, already, she heard the mob at the doors.

"It is not safe to stay here, is it?" she asked. "We could go to the
summer palace. That, at least, is isolated."

"Too isolated," said the King dryly. "And flight! The very spark,
perhaps, to start a blaze. Besides," he remind her, "I could not make
the journey. If you would like to go, however, probably it can be
arranged."

But Annunciata was not minded to go without the Court. And she
reflected, not unwisely, that if things were really as bad as they
appeared, to isolate herself, helpless in the mountains, would be but to
play into the enemy's hand.

"To retur