wo German
princesses whose photographs said flattering things of them; and, when
he declined both propositions, had looked at him very sadly indeed--had
almost broached the unmentionable subject. "Oh, Max, what are we to do
with you?" she sighed; for she was still keeping herself badly informed
of his goings-on. "That woman is back again," she informed her husband;
"I really think we ought to consult the Archbishop."

The King saw no hope in that. "You must leave Max to take his own time,"
he said. He did not just then want to worry about Max, since he was
preparing to plunge on his own account. "Alone I did it," was to be his
boast, and he knew that if once he resumed fathering Max, Max would be
fathering him, and his small spurt of initiative would be over.

But all that must be kept for another chapter. This one belongs to Max
and his love affairs, past, present, and future; and it is still Max and
his fortunes that we are following as we step back into the limelight of
publicity.

At the first Court following on the Jubilee celebrations the Bishops
appeared in force. It was their final demonstration of loyalty to the
throne before the political battle joined, for they were now preparing
to reject, just as a last fling, the whole of the Government's program,
and then to see what the country thought of it.

As a bilious man sticks out his tongue toward the glass in order to know
whether he looks as he feels, so the Bishops were sticking out their
tongues toward the country in the hopes of looking as brave as they were
pretending to be. And they came to Court that they might advertise their
attitude.

They came in silken court-cassocks, preceded by their croziers and
followed by their women-folk, a nice expression of that ecclesiastical
and domestic blend on which the Church of Jingalo prided itself. These
Church ladies were moral emblems in another respect as well: they had
the privilege of appearing at Court functions more highly dressed--that
is to say, less denuded--than others of a more aristocratic connection.
The sacred and unfleshly calling of a bishop threw a protecting mantle
over the modest shoulders of his wife and daughters; and these did not
go unclad. In accordance with Pauline teaching they were covered in the
assembly, expressing in their own persons that "moderation in all
things" which was the accepted motto and policy of the Church.

The Archbishop of Ebury was there also; his crozier was diff