ster of Ceremonies, and his Baroness
having been told off to take care of Miss Mowbray.

In another mood it would have pricked Virginia's sense of humor to see
Baroness von Lyndal's almost shocked surprise at discovering her to be
the daughter of that Lady Mowbray whom she was asked to meet. (Luckily
all the letters of introduction had reached their destination, it
merely remaining, according to etiquette in Rhaetia, for Lady Mowbray
to announce her arrival in Kronburg by sending cards to the
recipients.) But Virginia had no heart for laughter now.

She had been on the point of forgetting, until reminded by a dig from
the spur of necessity, that she was only a masquerader, acting her
borrowed part in a pageant. For the first time since she had hopefully
taken it up, that part became detestable. She would have given almost
anything to throw it off, and be herself: for nothing less than clear
sincerity seemed worthy of this day and the event which crowned it.

Nevertheless, in the vulgar language of proverb which no well
brought-up Princess should ever stoop to use, she had made her own
bed, and she must lie in it. It would not do for her suddenly to give
out to the world of Kronburg that she was not, after all, Miss
Mowbray, but Princess Virginia of Baumenburg-Drippe. That would not be
fair to the Grand Duchess, who had yielded to her wishes, nor fair to
her own plans. Above all, it would not be fair to the Emperor,
handicapped as he now was by a debt of gratitude. No; Miss Mowbray she
was, and Miss Mowbray she must for the present remain.

Naturally the Grand Duchess fainted when her daughter was brought back
with ominous red stains upon the gray background of her traveling
dress. But the wound was neither deep nor dangerous. The court surgeon
was as consoling as he was complimentary, and by the time that
messengers from the palace had arrived with inquiries from the Emperor
and invitations to the Emperor's ball, the mother of the heroine could
dispense with her sal volatile.

She had fortunately much to think of. There was the important question
of dress for the ball to-morrow night; there was the still more
pressing question of the newspapers, which must not be allowed to
publish the borrowed name of Mowbray, lest complications should arise;
and there were the questions to be asked of Virginia. How had she
felt? How had she dared? How had the Emperor looked, and what had the
Emperor said?

If it had been natura