g to hand to Mr. Beltham at our
meeting. I might trace it to one of the embassies, Imperial or Royal. No
matter--there it is.'

I read a paragraph in which Ottilia's name and titles were set down; then
followed mine and my wealthy heirship, and--woe was me in the perusing of
it!--a roundabout vindication of me as one not likely to be ranked as the
first of English commoners who had gained the hand of an hereditary
foreign princess, though it was undoubtedly in the light of a commoner
that I was most open to the congratulations of my countrymen upon my
unparalleled felicity. A display of historical erudition cited the noble
inferiors by birth who had caught princesses to their arms--Charles,
Humphrey, William, John. Under this list, a later Harry!

The paragraph closed by fixing the nuptials to take place before the end
of the Season.

I looked at my father to try a struggle with him. The whole man was
efflorescent.

'Can't it be stopped?' I implored him.

He signified the impossibility in a burst of gesticulations, motions of
the mouth, smiling frowns; various patterns of an absolute negative
beating down opposition.

'Things printed can never be stopped, Richie. Our Jorian compares them to
babies baptized. They have a soul from that moment, and go on for
ever!--an admirable word of Jorian's. And a word to you, Richie. Will you
swear to me by the veracity of your lover's heart, that paragraph affords
you no satisfaction? He cannot swear it!' my father exclaimed, seeing me
swing my shoulder round, and he made me feel that it would have been a
false oath if I had sworn it. But I could have sworn, that I had rather
we two were at the bottom of the sea than that it should come under the
princess's eyes. I read it again. It was in print. It looked like
reality. It was at least the realization of my dream. But this played
traitor and accused me of being crowned with no more than a dream. The
sole practical thing I could do was to insist on our starting for
Riversley immediately, to make sure of my own position. 'Name your hour,
Richie,' my father said confidently: and we waited.

A rather plainer view of my father's position, as I inclined to think,
was afforded to me one morning at his breakfast-table, by a conversation
between him and Jorian DeWitt, who brought me a twisted pink note from
Mdlle. Chassediane, the which he delivered with the air of a dog made to
disgorge a bone, and he was very cool to me indeed. The