no trouble in the
hearts of the Countess and his blithe comrade. Behind him rose the grim
castle walls, from the windows of which, here and there, gleamed the
lights of the night. Where was she? He had seen her in the afternoon and
had talked with her, had walked with her. Their conversation had been
bright, but of the commonplace kind. She had said nothing to indicate
that she remembered the hour spent beside his couch a day or so before;
he had uttered none of the words that struggled to rush from his lips,
the questions, the pleadings, the vows. Where was she now? Not in that
gay crowd below, for he had scanned every figure with the hawk's eye.
Closeted again, no doubt, with her ministers, wearying her tired brain,
her brave heart into fatigue without rest.

Her court still trembled with the excitement of the daring attempt
of the abductors and their swift punishment. Functionaries flocked to
Edelweiss to inquire after the welfare of the Princess, and indignation
was at the highest pitch. There were theories innumerable as to the
identity of the arch-conspirator. Baron Dangloss was at sea completely.
He cursed himself and everybody else for the hasty and ill-timed
execution of the hirelings. It was quite evident that the buzzing wonder
and intense feeling of the people had for the moment driven out all
thought of the coming day of judgment and its bitter atonement for all
Graustark. To-day the castle was full of the nobility, drawn to its
walls by the news that had startled them beyond all expression. The
police were at work, the military trembled with rage, the people
clamored for the apprehension of the man who had been the instigator of
this audacity. The general belief was that some brigand chief from the
south had planned the great theft for the purpose of securing a fabulous
ransom. Grenfall Lorry had an astonishing theory in his mind, and the
more he thought it over the more firmly it was imbedded.

The warm, blue coils from the cigar wafted away into the night, carrying
with them a myriad of tangled thoughts,--of her, of Axphain, of the
abductor, of himself, of everything. A light step on the stone floor of
the shadowy balcony attracted his attention. He turned his head and saw
the Princess Yetive. She was walking slowly toward the balustrade, not
aware of his presence. There was no covering for the dark hair, no
wrap about the white shoulders. She wore an exquisite gown of white,
shimmering with the reflec