even if it should turn out in the end to be impossible or
undesirable to upset them!

"What could there be more--in honor?" she echoed lightly after an
instant given to reflection.

"Why, the Emperor and the girl will see a great deal of each other,
unless you banish or imprison the Mowbrays. There'll be many dances
together, many calls; in fact, a serial romance instead of a short
story. Why shouldn't his Majesty know the pleasure of a--platonic
friendship with a beautiful and charming young woman?"

"Because Plato's out of fashion, if ever he was in, among human beings
with red blood in their veins; and because, as I said, the Emperor is
above all else a man of honor. Besides, I doubt that any woman, no
matter how pretty or young, could wield a really powerful influence
over his life."

"You doubt that? Then you don't know the Emperor; and you've forgotten
some of the traditions of his house."

"Are you trying to warn me of disaster, Baroness?"

She laughed. "Oh, dear no. Of nothing disagreeable. But I should be
sorry to think, as you seem to do, that our Emperor has no youth in
his veins."

"I think nothing of the sort. What I do think is that my teachings
have not been in vain, and that he has grown up to put his duty to his
country and his own self-respect above everything. He's a strong
man--too strong to be trapped in the meshes of any pink and white
Vivien. And if he admired a young woman not of Royal blood, he would
keep his distance for her sake. You say this English miss is with her
mother at the principal hotel of Kronburg. If Leopold constantly
visited them there we should have a scandal. On the other hand, to
suggest meeting the girl outside, or incognito, would be an insult.
Either way he would be but poorly rewarding a woman who saved his
life."

Baroness von Lyndal's color rallied to the support of her rouge, and
her smile dwindled to inanity, for she had insisted upon the argument,
and it was going against her.

In her haste to vex the Chancellor, she had not stopped to study from
every side the question she had raised. So far, she had merely
succeeded in irritating him, and she owed him much more than a pin
prick. Such infinitesimal wounds she had contrived to give the man in
abundance, during her twenty-two years at the Rhaetian Court; but now,
if she hurt him at all, she would like the stab to be deep and
memorable.

To be sure, in beginning the conversation, she had thought of nothin