is hands, and
went on. Their neighbor and hereditary foe was Karnia. Could they any
longer afford the enmity of Karnia? One cause of discontent was the
expense of the army, and of the fortifications along the Karnian border.
If Karnia were allied with them, there would be no need of so great
an army. They had the mineral wealth, and Karnia the seaports. The old
dream of the Empire, of a railway to the sea, would be realized.

He pleaded well. The idea was not new. To place the little King Otto IX
on the throne and keep him there in the face of opposition would require
support from outside. Karnia would furnish this support. For a price.

The price was the Princess Hedwig.

Outside, Nikky Larisch rose, stretched, and fell to pacing the floor.
It was one o'clock, and the palace slept. He lighted a cigarette, and
stepping out into a small balcony which overlooked the Square, faced the
quiet night.

"That is my plea, sire," Mettlich finished. "Karl of Karnia is
anxious to marry, and looks this way. To allay discontent and growing
insurrection, to insure the boy's safety and his throne, to beat
our swords into ploughshares"--here he caught the King's scowl; and
added--"to a certain extent, and to make us a commercial as well as
a military nation, surely, sire, it gains much for us, and loses us
nothing."

"But our independence!" said the King sourly.

However, he did not dismiss the idea. The fright of the afternoon
had weakened him, and if Mettlich were right--he had what the King
considered a perfectly damnable habit of being right--the Royalist party
would need outside help to maintain the throne.

"Karnia!" he said. "The lion and the lamb, with the lamb inside the
lion! And in, the mean time the boy--"

"He should be watched always."

"The old she-dragon, the governess--I suppose she is trustworthy?"

"Perfectly. But she is a woman."

"He has Lussin." Count Lussin was the Crown Prince's aide-de-camp.

"He needs a man, sire," observed the Chancellor rather tartly.

The King cleared his throat. "This youngster he is so fond of, young
Larisch, would he please you better?" he asked, with ironic deference.

"A good boy, sire. You may recall that his mother--" He stopped.

Perhaps the old King's memory was good. Perhaps there was a change in
Mettlich's voice.

"A good boy?"

"None better, sire. He is devoted to His Royal Highness. He is still
much of a lad himself. I have listened to them talking. It is a