aw
her. Suddenly she blushed and began to speak.

"Once," she said in a low, almost inaudible voice, "I was able to give
your Highness warning of an impending danger--" She paused and her eyes
rested full on Odo.

He felt his colour rise as he returned her gaze. It was her first
allusion to the past. He had supposed she had forgotten. For a moment he
remained awkwardly silent.

"Do you remember?" she asked.

"I remember."

"The danger was a grave one. Your Highness may recall that but for my
warning you would not have been advised of it."

"I remember," he said again.

She paused a moment. "The danger," she repeated, "was a grave one; but
it threatened only your Highness's person. Your Highness listened to me
then; will you listen again if I advise you of a greater--a peril
threatening not only your person but your throne?"

Odo smiled. He could guess now what was coming. She had been drilled to
act as the mouthpiece of the opposition. He composed his features and
said quietly: "These are grave words, madam. I know of no such
peril--but I am always ready to listen to your Highness."

His smile had betrayed him, and a quick flame of anger passed over her
face.

"Why should you listen to me, since you never heed what I say?"

"Your Highness has just reminded me that I did so once--"

"Once!" she repeated bitterly. "You were younger then--and so was I!"
She glanced at herself in the mirror with a dissatisfied laugh.
Something in her look and movement touched the springs of compassion.

"Try me again," he said gently. "If I am older, perhaps I am also wiser,
and therefore even more willing to be guided--we all knew that." She
broke off, as though she felt her mistake and wished to make a fresh
beginning. Again her face was full of fluctuating meaning; and he saw,
beneath its shallow surface, the eddy of incoherent impulses. When she
spoke, it was with a noble gravity.

"Your Highness," she said, "does not take me into your counsels; but it
is no secret at court and in the town that you have in contemplation a
grave political measure."

"I have made no secret of it," he replied.

"No--or I should be the last to know it!" she exclaimed, with one of her
sudden lapses into petulance.

Odo made no reply. Her futility was beginning to weary him. She saw it
and again attempted an impersonal dignity of manner.

"It has been your Highness's choice," she said, "to exclude me from
public affairs. Perhaps I was