shops will eventually give way."

The King felt himself a little more alone. "Yes," he said, "I daresay
they will; I shouldn't wonder at all."

"Then over that, too, I may look for your Majesty's consent?"

The King repeated his former word. "I shall not stand in your way," he
said; and again the Prime Minister bowed low.

"I have to thank your Majesty for relieving me of a great difficulty."

"Oh, no, why should you? You have not persuaded me in the least; you
have merely forced me to a certain course, in which I still cannot
pretend that I agree."

"I shall always recognize that your Majesty has acted on the highest
motives, both in opposing and in ceasing to oppose."

"I shall ask you to remember that," said the King.

"There shall never be any misunderstanding on my part," replied the
minister; and applying a palm to the hand graciously extended as though
its mere touch had power to heal, he took his leave, and the fateful
audience was over.

For a long time after, the King stood looking at the door out of which
he had gone.

"I think there has been a misunderstanding, though," he said to himself,
with a slow, faint smile, "and I don't think it is mine----" He paused.
"Perhaps, though, I had better write down exactly what I said." And
going to his desk he made there and then a careful memorandum of his
words.

He read them over, and once again he smiled. He was still quite
contented with what he had done. "And I wonder," he said to himself,
"what Max would say if he knew?"

There was a great surprise waiting for Max, and well might the King
wonder what that interesting young man would make of it. Yes, it was
just as well that Max should not know anything about it beforehand; Max
might run away.

CHAPTER XI

A ROYAL COMMISSION

I

While the King and the Prime Minister had thus been giving each other
shocks of a somewhat unpleasant character, Prince Max had received a far
pleasanter one. Only a week after the holding of the King's court the
lady of his dreams had written asking for an interview.

The letter was not dated from the Archbishop's palace, but from the Home
of the Little Lay-Sisters; and it was thither that he repaired, in order
to forestall her humble yet amazing offer to wait upon him.

In the bare, conventual parlor, with high walls that echoed resoundingly
and boards that smelt of soap, they met once more face to face and
alone. She courtesied low, addressed him forma