see the strain beneath."

"Surely she must see the urgency of quick action in this matter of
ours," cried Anguish half angrily. "We are not dogs to be kicked out of
the castle. We have a right to be treated fairly--"

"We cannot censure the Princess, Harry," said Lorry, calmly. "We have
come because we would befriend her, and she sees fit to reject our good
offices. There is but one thing left for us to do--depart as we came."

"But I don't like it a little bit," growled the other.

"If you only knew, Mr. Anguish, you would not be so harsh and unjust,"
remonstrated the lady, warmly. Turning to Lorry she said: "She asked
me to hand you this and to bid you retain it as a token of her undying
esteem."

She handed him a small, exquisite miniature of the Princess, framed in
gold inlaid with rubies. He took it dumbly in his fingers, but dared
not look at the portrait it contained. With what might have seemed
disrespect he dropped the treasure into his coat pocket.

"Tell her I shall always retain it as a token' of her--esteem," he said.
"And now may I ask whether she handed my note to her uncle, the Count?"

The Countess blushed in a most unaccountable manner.

"Not while I was with her," she said, recovering the presence of mind
she apparently had lost.

"She destroyed it, I presume," said he, laughing harshly.

"I saw her place it in her bosom, sir, and with the right hand," cried
the Countess, as if betraying a state secret.

"In her--you are telling me the truth?" cried he, his face lighting up.

"Now, see here, Lorry, don't begin to question the Countess's word. I
won't stand for that," interposed Anguish, good-humoredly.

"I should be more than base to say falsely that she had done anything so
absurd," said the Countess, indignantly.

"Where is she now?" asked Lorry.

"In her boudoir. The Prince Lorenz is with her--alone."

"What!" he cried, jealousy darting into his existence. He had never
known jealousy before.

"They are betrothed," said she, with an effort. There was a dead
silence, broken by Lorry's deep groan as he turned and walked blindly
to the opposite side of the room. He stopped in front of a huge painting
and stared at it, but did not see a line or a tint.

"You don't mean to say she has accepted?" half whispered Anguish.

"Nothing less."

"Thank God, you are only a Countess," he said, tenderly.

"Why--why--what difference can it make! I mean, why do you say that?"
she stammered, cr