I said about your odious
kingdom and your miserable throne, I'll--I'll--" He cast about for a
sufficiently rebellious sentiment, then resolutely asserted: "I'll stay
here until I rot in my chains." He raised his hands and shook imaginary
manacles. "Clink! Clink! Clink!" he added dramatically.

"You are being punished for being too fascinating to a poor little fool
princess who has played truant and who doesn't want to go back to
school." She talked on with forced levity. "As for the kingdom,"--once
more her eyes became wistful--"you may say what you like about it. You
can't possibly hate it as much as I. There is no anarchist screaming his
adherence to the red flag or inventing infernal machines, who hates all
thrones as much as the one small girl who must needs be Queen of
Galavia. No, _lese-majeste_ is not the fault for which you are being
punished."

For a while he was silent, then his voice was raised in exile, almost
cheerfully.

"Destiny is stronger than the paretic councils of little inbred kings.
Why, Cara, I can get one good, husky Methodist preacher who can do in
five minutes what I hardly think your royalties can undo--ever."

"Oh, don't!" she stopped him with plaintive appeal. "I know all that. I
know it. Don't you realize that the longer the flight into the open blue
of the skies, the harder the return to a gilt cage? But, dearest--there
is such a thing as keeping one's parole. I must go back, unless I am
held by a force stronger than I. I must go back. I have been here almost
too long."

"Cara," he said slowly, "I, too, have a sense of duty. It is to you. The
open blue of the skies is yours by right--divine right. You have nothing
to do with cages, gilt or otherwise. My duty is to free you. I mean to
do it. I haven't finished thinking it out yet, but I am going to find
the way."

Her answering voice was deeply grave.

"If you just devise a situation where I shall have to fight it all out
again, you will only make it harder for me. I must do what I must do. I
could only be rescued by some power stronger than myself. Come, let's
go back."

At dinner that same evening Mrs. Van announced to her guests that "by
request of one who should be nameless," punctuating her pledge of
secrecy with a pronounced glance at Benton, there would be a masquerade
affair on the evening before Cara's departure for New York. She said
this was to be an informal sort of frolic in fancy dress, and the only
requirement woul