tial that he hasn't become a citizen of your
republic. That would have been the last straw!"

They rose as Armitage called to them from a French window near by.

"Good afternoon, gentlemen! When two diplomats get their heads together
on a summer afternoon, the universe is in danger."

He came toward them hatless, but trailing a stick that had been the prop
of his later convalescence. His blue serge coat, a negligee shirt and
duck trousers had been drawn a few days before from the trunks brought by
Oscar from the bungalow. He was clean-shaven for the first time since his
illness, and the two men looked at him with a new interest. His deepened
temples and lean cheeks and hands told their story; but his step was
regaining its old assurance, and his eyes were clear and bright. He
thrust the little stick under his arm and stood erect, gazing at the near
gardens and then at the hills. The wind tumbled his brown newly-trimmed
hair, and caught the loose ends of his scarf and whipped them free.

"Sit down. We were just talking of you. You are getting so much stronger
every day that we can't be sure of you long," said the Baron.

"You have spoiled me,--I am not at all anxious to venture back into the
world. These Virginia gardens are a dream world, where nothing is really
quite true."

"Something must be done about your father's estate soon. It is yours,
waiting and ready."

The Baron bent toward the young man anxiously.

Armitage shook his head slowly, and clasped the stick with both hands and
held it across his knees.

"No,--no! Please let us not talk of that any more. I could not feel
comfortable about it. I have kept my pledge to do something for his
country--something that we may hope pleases him if he knows."

The three were silent for a moment. A breeze, sweet with pine-scent of
the hills, swept the valley, taking tribute of the gardens as it passed.
The Baron was afraid to venture his last request.

"But the name--the honored name of the greatest statesman Austria has
known--a name that will endure with the greatest names of Europe--surely
you can at least accept that."

The Ambassador's tone was as gravely importunate as though he were
begging the cession of a city from a harsh conqueror. Armitage rose and
walked the length of the veranda. He had not seen Shirley since that
morning when the earth had slipped from under his feet at the bungalow.
The Claibornes had been back and forth often between Washington