revealed the drawn and troubled
features of the Emperor of Mexico.

"Your Majesty has returned to His capital!" she exclaimed. "Then it is
true----"

"That I shall cling to my play-empire? But I do not know yet,
mademoiselle, I do not know yet. If I did, I should not be here, here in
your house for the first time, and against your wishes----"

"Will Your Highness be seated?"

Maximilian flung himself wearily into an armchair. The fire of the
enthusiast had died out of his eyes, and the fire of fever had left them
faded. They reminded one of the blue of old-fashioned china.

"But why----" she began.

"Why come to you, you mean? I don't know; instinct, I suppose."

"Isn't that rather vague? Your Imperial Highness returns to the City, to
his palace----"

"Not to his palace, mademoiselle, not while it would seem a mockery of
my poor imperial state, but to an hacienda in the suburbs. If I enter my
Mexican palace again, it will be because I have decided to remain an
emperor."

"And for the reason that you have _not_ so decided, you do me the
honor----"

"I do myself the service, mademoiselle. I can bear this torment of
indecision no longer, and you can help me, for you, dear lady, see
clearly where the vision of others is distorted. The enthusiasm of the
others is unsafe. Yes," he sighed, with a little superior air of
resignation to all human foibles, "those on whose loyalty I can depend
are indeed few, but I am thankful that among them are my ministers, and
my faithful secretary, Father Augustin Fischer----"

"Then why, in heaven's name, does Your Highness come to me?"

"Instinct, or--perhaps it's mania. Something has forced me to learn what
_you_ would say."

Jacqueline's foot--a small digression, at most--was slippered in blue,
and this she pillowed on a cushion of red. And on another cushion she
settled her elbow; and the sleeve of the chemisette, or blouse, or
whatever the high-necked filmy white garment was, fell away, revealing a
rounded forearm clasped in a band of gold. And resting her chin on her
thumb, she regarded the young prince thoughtfully. In her look there may
have been a sedate twinkle of amusement, but all was gently, pityingly
sympathetic.

"Let me know," she said, "more of the doubts that trouble Your
Highness."

Unerringly she touched the right chord. Doubts, yes, doubts of a broken
dreamer. Illusions shattered as bubbles. A dweller in an ideal shadow,
believing that subjects neede