the arms of Elmur, who set
him upright with a gentle skilfulness that almost cheated the eyes of
the spectators.

The Duke, slightly shaken, and exceedingly annoyed, turned upon the
girl:

'Mademoiselle grows proud!'

'Forgive me, sire; I did not dream that you would stoop so low!'
rejoined the girl, with apparent humility.

'If you will not accept the salute of your Duke, Mademoiselle, may I ask
to what you aspire?' he added contemptuously.

Valerie was not of a meek spirit, and she saw a way in which she might
revenge Isolde, little comprehending the far-reaching consequences of
her thoughtless words.

'I aspire to be maid of honour to the Grand Duchess of Maasau!' she
answered, with a glance towards the Countess.

The Duke glared around him into the circle of half-curious,
half-terrified faces, for this was a piercing home-thrust, his eye dwelt
for a moment on Sagan, towering tall and rugged and strong as one of his
own native rocks, and he recognised that his cousin, although ten years
his senior as age is counted, was infinitely younger in his unimpaired
energies and rude health. Also, Duke Gustave of Maasau was
superstitious, and it struck him as an ill omen that the representative
of Selpdorf should have failed him at the critical moment, and thus
flung him headlong into the arms of Germany!

Out of all these crowding thoughts arose not only vivid fear, but a
resolution, of which none at that time believed him to be capable. He
grew white about the mouth, his protruding lip twitched ominously.

'It is not always lucky for even so young and beautiful a woman as you
are to count on dead men's shoes,' he said, in a low, penetrating voice.

A happy inspiration came to Madame de Sagan. She took Valerie's hand in
hers, and addressed the Duke with a quivering smile that somehow vouched
for her earnestness at the moment.

'You mistake Valerie, sire; she and I both desire the same honour--to
attend your Highness's Consort, if it would please you to take one.'

'It might please me, Madame; but I doubt it would please your husband
little,' retorted the Duke.

'I hoped your Highness knew me better!' protested Sagan sulkily.

'I do, my good Simon, I know you much better!' said the Duke laughing.
'Now, pray lead me to my apartments. The journey to Sagan fatigues in
this weather--and, after all, it would look better if I died at home--in
the palace at Revonde.'

At a glance from Elmur, Sagan motioned his wif