shed, and then sent her away. When she had
got part way to the door, however, he called her back. And since a king
is a king, even if he is one's father and very old, she came.

"Just one word more," he said, in his thin, old, highbred voice. "Much
of your unhappiness was of your own making. You, and you only, know
how much. But nothing that you have said can change the situation. I am
merely compelled to make the decision alone, and soon. I have not much
time."

So, after all, was the matter of the Duchess Hedwig's marriage arranged,
a composite outgrowth of expediency and obstinacy, of defiance and
anger. And so was it hastened.

Irritation gave the King strength. That afternoon were summoned in haste
the members of his Council: fat old Friese, young Marschall with the rat
face, austere Bayerl with the white skin and burning eyes, and others.
And to them all the King disclosed his royal will. There was some demur.
Friese, who sweated with displeasure, ranted about old enemies and
broken pledges. But, after all, the King's will was dominant. Friese
could but voice his protest and relapse into greasy silence.

The Chancellor sat silent during the conclave, silent, but intent.
On each speaker he turned his eyes, and waited until at last Karl's
proposal, with its promises, was laid before them in full. Then, and
only then, the Chancellor rose. His speech was short. He told them of
what they all knew, their own insecurity. He spoke but a word of the
Crown Prince, but that softly. And he drew for them a pictures of the
future that set their hearts to glowing--a throne secure, a greater
kingdom, freedom from the cost of war, a harbor by the sea.

And if, as he spoke, he saw not the rat eyes of Marschall, the greedy
ones of some of the others, but instead a girl's wide and pleading ones,
he resolutely went on. Life was a sacrifice. Youth would pass, and love
with it, but the country must survive.

The battle, which was no battle at all, was won. He had won. The country
had won. The Crown Prince had won. Only Hedwig had lost. And only
Mettlich knew just how she had lost.

When the Council, bowing deep, had gone away, the Chancellor remained
standing by a window. He was feeling old and very tired. All that day,
until the Council met with the King, he had sat in the little office
on a back street, which was the headquarters of the secret service. All
that day men had come and gone, bringing false clues which led nowhere.