shall look precisely as you say," he
acquiesced.

"Listen, dear." She was talking rapidly, wildly, her arms still about
his neck. "There are two miserable little kingdoms over there....
Horrible little two-by-four principalities, that fit into the map of
Europe like little, ragged chips in a mosaic.... Cousin Van lied in
there to protect my disguise.... It is my father who is the Grand Duke
of Maritzburg, and it is ordained that I shall marry Prince Karyl of
Galavia.... It was Von Ritz's mission to remind me of my slavery." Her
voice rose in sudden protest. "Every peasant girl in the vineyards may
select her own lover, but I must be awarded by the crowned heads of the
real kingdoms--like a prize in a lottery. Do you wonder that I have run
away and masqueraded for a taste of freedom before the end? Do you
wonder"--the head came down on his shoulder--"that I want to be a hobo
with a tomato-can and a fire of deadwood?"

He kissed her hair. "Are you crying, Cara, dear?" he asked softly.

Her head came up. "I never cry," she answered. "Do you believe there are
more lives--other incarnations--that I may yet live to be a
butterfly--or a vagrant bee?"

"I believe"--his voice was firm--"I believe you are not Queen of Galavia
yet by a good bit. There's a fairly husky American anarchist in this
game, dearest, who has designs on that dynasty."

"Don't!" she begged. "Don't you see that I wouldn't let them force me?
It is that I see the inexorable call of it, as my father saw it when he
left his studio in Paris for a throne that meant only unhappiness--as
you would see it, if your country called for volunteers."

He bowed his head. For a moment neither spoke. Then she took the rose
from her breast and kissed it.

"Sir Knight of the Red Rose," she said, with a pitifully forced smile.
"I don't want to give it back--ever. I want to keep it always."

He took her in his arms, and she offered no protest.

"To-morrow is to-morrow," he said. "To-day you are mine. I love you."

She took his head between her palms and drew his face down. "I shall
never do this with anyone else," she said slowly, kissing his forehead.
"I love you."

Slowly they turned together toward the house.

"I like your cavalryman, Pagratide," he said thoughtfully. His mind had
suddenly recurred to the scene in the foreigner's room, and he thought
he began to understand. "He is a man. He dares to challenge royal wrath
by venturing his love in the lists again