ly. "I want you to promise, on
your sacred word of honour, that you'll kiss no man until you've kissed
me."

"Oh!" she murmured, utterly speechless.

"Promise!"

"I--I cannot promise that," she said in tones almost inaudible. "I am
not sure that I'll ever--ever kiss anybody. How silly you are!"

"I'll make exception in the case of your brother--and, yes, the Prince."

"I'll not make such a promise," she cried.

"Then, I'll be hanged if I'll save you from the ridiculous mess you've
gotten yourself into," he announced with finality. "Moreover, you're not
yet safe from old Marlanx. Think it over, my--"

"Oh, he cannot seize the Castle--it is impossible!" she cried in sudden
terror.

"I'm not so sure about that," he said laconically.

"What is it you really want me to say?" she asked, looking up with
sudden shyness in her starry eyes.

"That you love me--and me only, Loraine," he whispered.

"I will not say it," she cried, breaking away from him. "But," as she
ran to the steps, a delicious tremor in her voice--"I _will_ consider
the other thing you ask."

"Darling--don't go," he cried, in eager, subdued tones, but she already
was half way across the balcony. In a moment she was gone. "Poor,
harassed little sweetheart!" he murmured, with infinite tenderness. For
a long time he stood there, looking at the window through which she had
disappeared, his heart full of song.

Then, all at once, he remembered the meeting. "Great Scott!" in dismay.
"I'm late for the pow-wow." A twisted smile stole over his face. "I
wonder how they've managed to get along without me." Then he presented
himself, somewhat out of breath, to the attendants at the south doors,
where he had been directed to report. A moment later he was in the
Castle of Graustark, following a stiff-backed soldier through mediaeval
halls of marble, past the historic staircase, down to the door of the
council chamber. He was filled with the most delicious sensation of awe
and reverence. Only in his dearest dreams had he fancied himself in
these cherished halls. And now he was there--actually treading the same
mosaic floors that had known the footsteps of countless princes and
princesses, his nostrils tingling with the rare incense of five
centuries, his blood leaping to the call of a thousand romances. The all
but mythical halls of Graustark--the sombre, vaulted, time-defying
corridors of his fancy. Somewhere in this vast pile of stone was the
girl he loved.