er than any one would dare put in
fiction, if writing of Royalties. My dear husband was second cousin
once removed to the German Emperor, though he was treated--but we
mustn't speak of that. The subject always upsets me. What I was
leading up to, is this; though there may be other girls who, from a
worldly point of view, are more desirable; still, you're _strictly_
within the pale from which Leopold is entitled to choose his wife, and
if--"

"Dear little Mother, there's no such 'if.' And as for me, _I_ wasn't
thinking of a 'worldly point of view.' The Emperor of Rhaetia barely
knows that I exist. And even if by some miracle he should suddenly
discover that little Princess Virginia Mary Victoria Alexandra
Hildegarde of Baumenburg-Drippe was the one suitable wife for him on
earth, I wouldn't have him want me because I was 'suitable,'
but--because I was irresistible. I'd want his love--all his love--or I
would say 'no, you must look somewhere else for your Empress.'"

"But that's nonsense, darling. Royal people seldom or never have the
chance to fall in love," said the Grand Duchess.

"I'm tired of being Royal," snapped the Princess. "Being Royal does
nothing but spoil all one's fun, and oblige one to do stupid, boring
things, which one hates."

"Nevertheless, noblesse _does_ oblige," went on the Dresden china
prophetess of conventionality. "When alliances are arranged for women
of our position, we must content ourselves with the hope that love may
come after marriage. Or if not, we must go on doing our duty in that
state of life to which Heaven has graciously called us."

"Bother duty!" broke out Virginia. "Thank goodness, in these days not
all the king's horses and all the king's men can make even a Princess
marry against her will. I _hate_ that everlasting cant about 'duty in
marriage.' When people love each other, they're kind and good, and
sweet and true, because it's a joy, not because it's a duty. And
that's the only sort of loyalty worth having between men and women,
according to me. I wouldn't accept anything else from a man; and I
should despise him if he were less--or more--exacting."

"Virginia, the way you express yourself is almost improper. I'm
thankful that no one hears you except myself," said the Grand Duchess.
But at this moment, when clash of tongues and opinions seemed
imminent, there occurred a happy diversion in the arrival of letters.

Virginia, who was a neglectful correspondent, had nothin