er the grey moustache. What he said was:

"Come, let us circle the room and see whom we know."

"We know none, if I'm to do the knowing," I said.

"Queer state of affairs," he reflected; "the true Heir Presumptive, yet
a stranger in the Court."

"Oh! drop that nonsense," I said.

His hand went up to his imperial. "Nonsense? Well, maybe so,--and
there's the pity of it."

I laughed. "My dear fellow," I said, "you are becoming sentimental,
and without even the excuse of a pretty woman in the case."

He faced toward the throne. "You don't act like a blind man," he said.

"I can see the Princess very clearly, but only with Major Dalberg's
eyes," I replied.

"But if you were proclaimed the----"

I cut him short. "I am too old for rainbow-chasing, and Spanish
Castles don't become an ambassador."

"There you are wrong, my dear Major; diplomacy deals in _chateaux en
Espagne_. It has builded many upon weaker foundations than this one,
that have, in time, become substantial and lasting."

"Then, it's a good thing that we army fellows are called upon,
occasionally, to tumble a few of them about your diplomatic ears."

He laughed. "You poor military men don't know it's only the phantom
castles you tumble. We never give you a chance at any others."

"So I've been a Don Quixote all these years and didn't know it?"

"About that!"

"And that warrants you in sending me to tilt against this foolish
heir-presumptive windmill."

"But if it were to prove no windmill?"

"Surely," I said--"Surely, you are not serious?"

He gave me one of his quick glances and his hand went back to his chin.

"'Quien sabe?' as the Spaniard would say, Major; 'Quien sabe?'" he
replied.

"Don't be an ass, Courtney," I exclaimed. "And don't play me for one,
either."

A lift of the eyebrows was his answer--but Courtney could say much that
way.

"It's not a bad sort of occupation--being a King," he reflected.

I ignored him.

"And you could fill the place quite as well as Ferdinand of Lotzen," he
went on.

"You will be offering presently to wager that I'll be the next King of
Valeria," I scoffed.

"With the proper odds, I'd risk it."

"Name them."

"No--not yet," he said; "but I'll go you five thousand even, now, that
you marry the Princess Royal."

"This court atmosphere seems to go to your head."

"That has nothing to do with the wager," he insisted.

"I'll not take you," I said. "The last fool bet is enough for