narchist, yet
both of us need a nip of brandy when we are disturbed. But I have the
better of you in one respect, my dear Michael. My hand doesn't shake.
Now, yours----"

The clasp on his arm loosened, lost some of its friendliness, and Prince
Delgrado stood for an instant on the stairs.

"I tried to show a calm front before the others; but the predicament my
son was in found the weak place in my armor," he said.

"My case exactly," said Felix. "Joan diagnosed the symptoms, and dosed
me with cognac. You, I imagine, were your own physician."

"Ah, since you mention the lady, who is she?"

"Joan? A female divinity, one of the few charming women left in the
world."

"Admirable! One can associate those qualities with residence in Paris;
but in Delgratz, Felix, one finds them unusual--shall I say out of
place?"

"If I were you, Monseigneur, I would learn to regard her in a totally
different light. Joan ought to be at home here, because she is your
prospective daughter in law."

Michael Delgrado could govern his nervous system with some measure of
success when words were the only weapons that threatened. He did not
flinch now; but threw open the door of the nearest room on the upper
floor. It chanced to be the apartment in which President Nesimir had
received Alec and Stampoff on that memorable morning, barely a month
ago, when the young King came to Delgratz to claim his patrimony.
Neither man was aware of the coincidence that led Michael to slam the
door, place his back against it, and gurgle a question:

"Are you jesting, Felix?"

"Quarter of an hour ago I was on the point of being introduced to a grim
personage who would have squeezed the last joke out of me," said
Poluski. "His name was Death, Pallida Mors, who steps with even stride
from the huts of the poor to the palace of the King, and he gave me such
a fright that I shall be in no mood all day for any display of humor.
Why, man, don't you realize that I have been under this roof fully five
minutes without experiencing the slightest desire to sing?"

"But, Felix, do be in earnest for once. What is this you tell me? How
can Alexis III. marry this woman, this adventuress?"

Poluski's big gray eyes narrowed into slits, and the hump on his
shoulders became more pronounced as his head drooped forward a little;
but his smooth tones did not falter, and his uneasy hearer thought he
found a note of friendly commiseration in them.

"A hard word, Michael, hard