n his arms and abandon the field to superior odds. His
presumption in aspiring for the hand of a Princess began to touch his
sense of humor, and he laughed, not very merrily, it is true, but long
and loudly, at his folly. At first he cursed the world and every one in
it, giving up in despair, but later he cursed only himself. Yet, as he
despaired and scoffed, he felt within himself an ever-present hope that
luck might turn the tide of battle.

This puny ray grew perceptibly when Anguish brought him to feel that she
needed his protection from the man who had once sought to despoil and
who might reasonably be expected to persevere. He agreed to linger in
Edelweiss, knowing that each day would add pain to the torture he was
already suffering, his sole object being, he convinced himself, to
frustrate Gabriel's evil plans.

Returning late in the evening from their stroll, they entered a cafe
celebrated in Edelweiss. In all his life Lorry had never known the
loneliness that makes death welcome. To-night he felt that he could not
live, so maddening was the certainty that he could never regain joy. His
heart bled with the longing to be near her who dwelt inside those castle
walls. He scoffed and grieved, but grieved the more.

The cafe was crowded with men and women. In a far corner sat a party of
Axphain nobles, their Prince, a most democratic fellow, at the head of
a long table. There were songs, jests and boisterous laughter. The
celebration grew wilder, and Lorry and Anguish crossed the room, and,
taking seats at a table, ordered wine and cigars, both eager for a
closer view of the Prince. How Lorry loathed him!

Lorenz was a good-looking young fellow, little more than a boy. His
smooth face was flushed, and there was about him an air of dissipation
that suggested depravity in its advanced stage. The face that might have
been handsome was the reflection of a roue, dashing, devilish. He was
fair-haired and tall, taller than his companions by half a head. With
reckless abandon he drank and sang and jested, arrogant in his flighty
merriment. His cohorts were not far behind him in riotous wit.

At length one of the revelers, speaking in German, called on Lorenz for
a toast to the Princess Yetive, his promised bride. Without a moment's
hesitation the Prince sprang to his feet, held his glass aloft, and
cried:

"Here's to the fairest of the fair, sweet Yetive, so hard to win, too
good to lose. She loves me, God bless her he