d only lofty phrases, Maximilian was
finding himself tragically maladjusted to the modern day in which he
lived. But as the words tumbled from his lips in the passionate relief
of unburdening, it quickly appeared that his misgivings arose only
because he had fallen short of Dark Age standards. He recalled bitterly
how, unlike the illustrious among his ancestors, he had not stirred
until others had won his crown for him. But destiny was kind. He had the
chance for redemption. To hold his empire now depended on him alone. He
would mount his horse, give to the light a true Hapsburg blade, and
valiantly ride forth to conquer or perish, and in any hazard be worthy
of his House.

Then, without abrupt change, he talked of Austria's late woes. Had he
but commanded his country's ships at Lissa! Could he but have risked his
life at Sadowa! And moreover, he was still needed over there. But in
some quick recollection a moisture dimmed the blue eyes. He drew from
his vaquero jacket a dispatch. It was from Franz Josef. If Maximilian
returned to Austria, the message ran, then he must leave behind the
title of Emperor--leave behind even the title!

"And will that hurt so much?" asked Jacqueline.

The Ritual again! For it a man withheld asylum from his brother.

"Is there no mother," cried the exasperated girl, "to spank both your
Majesties?"

"'Tis of Her Serene Highness----" Maximilian began with dignity.

"Highness? Yes, I forgot, but not high enough to chide majesty, though
she be a mother."

"Yet she has only just warned me of her deep displeasure if--No, her
message shall wait. I wish to hear first what you think. Tell me, shall
I go, or shall I stay? Tell me, tell me, and why!"

Feverishly the man craved one frank word. There was in his look the
prayer of a desperate gambler who watches a card poised between the
dealer's fingers. Jacqueline had one answer only. But exactly how to
express it, lest she be wrongly taken, made her pause.

"In the first place," she began slowly, "there is only a single
consideration involved, and in that lies the solution of Your Majesty's
doubts. I mean the consideration of honor. Now if Your Highness
is--_whipped_ off his throne--_that_ is ignominy--But wait,
wait, I am not through. I----"

"Almost my mother's words!" he cried triumphantly. And with a hand that
trembled, he got out the letter from that Archduchess Sophia who had
given one son a crown and loved this other as her darling.