firming that
Pantouflia, while deeply regretting the disturbed relations between two
States in whose welfare she was deeply interested, would ever preserve an
attitude of benevolent neutrality, unless her own interests were
threatened.

"I may give your message to my august mistress, the Czarina?" said the
ambassador.

"By all means, adding an expression of my tender interest in her
Majesty's health and welfare," said the king, presenting the count at the
same time with a magnificent diamond snuffbox containing his portrait.

The old count was affected to tears, and withdrew, while King Prigio
said:

"I have not lost a day; I have made an amiable but very stupid man
happy."

Such are, or rather such were, the toils of monarchs!

CHAPTER V.
Prince Ricardo Crosses the Path of History.

{Hand reaching for a crown with wings: p83.jpg}

"I say, Jack," said Prince Ricardo one morning, "here's a queer letter
for me!"

King Prigio had gone to a distant part of his dominions, on business of
importance, and the young people were sitting in the royal study. The
letter, which Ricardo handed to Jaqueline, was written on a great broad
sheet of paper, folded up without any envelope, as was the custom then,
and was sealed with a huge seal in red wax.

"I don't know the arms," Ricardo said.

"Oh, Ricardo, how you _do_ neglect your Heraldry! Old Green Stocking is
in despair over your ignorance."

Now Green Stocking was the chief herald of Pantouflia, just like Blue
Mantle in England.

"Why, these are the Royal Arms of England, you great ignorant Dick!"

"But Rome isn't in England, is it?--and the post-mark is 'Roma': that's
Rome in some lingo, I expect. It is in Latin, anyhow, I know. _Mortuus
est Romae_--'He died at Rome.' It's in the Latin Grammar. Let's see
what the fellow says, anyhow," added Ricardo, breaking the seal.

"He begins, 'Prins and dear Cousin!' I say, Jaqueline, he spells it
'Prins;' now it is P-R-I-N-C-E. He _must_ be an ignorant fellow!"

"People in glass houses should not throw stones, Dick," said Jaqueline.

"He signs himself 'Charles, P. W.,'" said Ricardo, looking at the end.
"Who on earth can he be? Why does he not put 'P. W. Charles,' if these
are his initials? Look here, it's rather a long letter; you might read
it to us, Jack!"

The princess took the epistle and began:

"How nice it smells, all scented! The paper is gilt-edged, too."

"Luxurious beggar, whoever he i