t it is one
you should not accept," said Mizrox, as coolly as if announcing the time
of day. Lorry looked first at him and then at the Princess, bewildered
and uncertain.

"I have no ill will against you, my Lord Duke. Release him from his bond
your Highness."

"Gladly, since you refuse to hold him to his oath," she said.

"I am under an eternal obligation to you, sir, for your leniency, and
I shall ever revere the Princess who pardons so graciously the gravest
error."

Yetive begged Bolaroz to continue to make the Court his home while in
Graustark, and the old Prince responded with the declaration that he
would remain long enough to sign and approve the new covenant, at least.
Before stepping from the throne, Yetive called in low tones to Lorry, a
pretty flush mantling her cheek:

"Will you come to me in half an hour?"

"For my reward?" he asked, eagerly.

"Ach?" she cried, softly, reprovingly. Count Halfont's face took on a
troubled expression as he caught the swift communication in their eyes.
After all, she was a Princess.

She passed from the room beside Halfont, proud and happy in the victory
over despair, glorying in the exposure of her heart to the world, her
blood tingling and dancing with the joys of anticipation. Lorry and
Anguish, the wonder and admiration of all, were given a short but
convincing levee in the hallway. Lords and ladies praised and lauded
them, overwhelming them with the homage that comes to the brave. But
Gaspon uttered one wish that struck Lorry's warm, leaping heart like a
piece of ice.

"Would to God that you were a Prince of the realm," said the minister of
finance, a look of regret and longing in his eyes. That wish of Gaspon's
sent Lorry away with the sharp steel of desolation, torturing intensely
as it drove deeper and deeper the reawakened pangs of uncertainty. There
still remained the fatal distance between him and the object of his
heart's desire.

He accompanied Captain Quinnox to his quarters, where he made himself
presentable before starting for the enchanted apartment in the far end
of the castle. Eager, burning passion throbbed side by side with
the cold pulsing of fear, a trembling race between two unconquerable
emotions. Passion longed for the voice, the eyes, the caresses; fear
cried aloud in every troubled throb: "You will see her and kiss her and
then you will be banished."

The two emotions thus thrown together, clashing fiercely for supremacy,
at last wo