rini's dread of the Archduchess; or, if we
could only reconcile the Prince to a visit from Nesselrode,"--showing
that private personal feelings were swaying the minds of those whose
contemplation might have seemed raised to a far loftier level. And then
what a mass of very small gossip abounded,--incidents so slight and
insignificant that they only were lifted into importance by the actors
in them being Kings and Kaisers! By what accidents great events were
determined; on what mere trifles vast interests depended,--it were,
doubtless, no novelty to record; still, it would startle many to be
told that a casual pique, a passing word launched at hazard, some petty
observance omitted or forgotten, have changed the destinies of whole
nations.

It is in such circles as these that incidents of this kind are
recounted. Each has some anecdote, trivial and unimportant it may be,
but still illustrating the life of those who live under the shadow
of Royalty. The Princess herself was inexhaustible in these stores of
secret biography; there was not a dynastic ambition to be consolidated
by a marriage, not a Coburg alliance to patch up a family compact, that
she was not well versed in. She detected in the vaguest movements plans
and intentions, and could read the signs of a policy in indications that
others would have passed without remark.

One by one the company retired, and at length Sir Horace found himself
the last guest of the evening. Scarcely had the door closed on the last
departure, when, drawing his arm-chair to the side of the fire opposite
to that where the Princess sat, he took out his cigar-case, and,
selecting a cheroot, deliberately lighted and commenced to smoke it.

"I thought they 'd never go," said she, with a sigh; "but I know why
they remained,--they all thought the Prince of Istria was coming. They
saw his carriage stop here this evening, and heard he had sent up to
know if I received. I wrote on a card, 'To-morrow at dinner, at eight;'
so be sure you are here to meet him."

Sir Horace bowed, and smiled his acceptance.

"And your journey, dear Princess," said he, between the puffs of his
smoke, "was it pleasant?"

"It might have been well enough, but I was obliged to make a great
_detour_. The Duchess detained me at Parma for some letters, and then
sent me across the mountains of Pontremoli--a frightful road--on a
secret mission to Massa."

"To Massa! of all earthly places."

"Even so. They had sent d