l fire.

Some said that the real thing that held them together was resentment
that the little Crown Prince stood between the Princess Hedwig and the
throne. Annunciata was not young, but she was younger than her dead
brother, Hubert. And others said it was because the Countess gathered
up and brought in the news of the Court--the small intrigues and the
scandals that constitute life in the restricted walls of a palace.
There is a great deal of gossip in a palace where the king is old and
everything rather stupid and dull.

The Countess yawned again.

"Where is Hedwig?" demanded the Archduchess.

"Her Royal Highness is in the nursery, probably."

"Why probably?"

"She goes there a great deal."

The Archduchess eyed her. "Well, out with it," she said. "There is
something seething in that wicked brain of yours."

The Countess shrugged her shoulders. Not that she resented having a
wicked brain. She rather fancied the idea. "She and young Lieutenant
Larisch have tea quite frequently with His Royal Highness."

"How frequently?"

"Three times this last week, madame."

"Little fool!" said Annunciata. But she frowned, and sat tapping her
teacup with her spoon. She was just a trifle afraid of Hedwig, and she
was more anxious than she would have cared to acknowledge. "It is being
talked about, of course?"

The Countess shrugged her shoulders.

"Don't do that!" commanded the Archduchess sharply. "How far do you
think the thing has gone?"

"He is quite mad about her."

"And Hedwig--but she is silly enough for anything. Do they meet anywhere
else?"

"At the riding-school, I believe. At least, I--"

Here a maid entered and stood waiting at the end of the screen. The
Archduchess Annunciata would have none of the palace flunkies about her
when she could help it. She had had enough of men, she maintained, in
the person of her late husband, whom she had detested. So except at
dinner she was attended by tidy little maids, in gray Quaker costumes,
who could carry tea-trays into her crowded boudoir without breaking
things.

"His Excellency, General Mettlich," said the maid.

The Archduchess nodded her august head, and the maid retired. "Go away,
Olga," said the Archduchess. "And you might," she suggested grimly,
"gargle your throat."

The Chancellor had passed a troubled night. Being old, like the King, he
required little sleep. And for most of the time between one o'clock and
his rising hour of five he had lain i