e apartment, had been placed on this
platform. It looked like a throne of King and Queen, and Eberhard Ludwig
himself had protested at this uncustomary assumption of a regal
superiority over his guests. But Wilhelmine had silenced him with a look.
She had pointed to Duke Eberhard's motto.

'Attempto,' she whispered; 'Prussia is a kingdom now, why not
Wirtemberg?'

Now Prussia's advancement was an eyesore to South Germany, and Eberhard
Ludwig's envious ambition was stirred.

'Attempto,' he murmured as he went to prepare to meet his Geheimraethe.
The success of this seance we already know.

The moments dragged. From the window of the Golden Hall Wilhelmine could
see the church clock's slow finger lagging from point to point. Below,
the crowd was still drinking and shouting, and the hated woman shuddered
when she thought what would be her fate were she at the mercy of that
throng which celebrated her wedding festivities.

Coaches rumbled into the courtyard. Soon the Countess heard voices in the
White Hall or music-room, where the guests had been requested to
assemble, pending the reception in the Golden Hall by his Highness.

Wilhelmine hurried away to complete her preparations for what she
intended to be one of the hours of triumph in her career.

She found Madame de Ruth and the maid Maria polishing the jewels she was
to wear.

'Quick!' she cried, 'the guests arrive!'

'Yes, my dear,' said Madame de Ruth dryly, 'all Stuttgart is coming here,
I am told. The virtuous indignation was not strong enough. Curiosity has
brought every one to see what you do.'

'Give me _all_ the jewels, Maria,' was Wilhelmine's only reply.

* * * * *

'Monseigneur le Duc de Wirtemberg et Madame la Comtesse d'Urach!' called
Oberhofmarshall Count Graevenitz, striking his marshal's staff heavily
upon the wooden floor of the corridor outside the Golden Hall. Then the
doors flew open, and the new Oberhofmarshall proceeded to the middle of
the hall where he repeated his staff-tapping and loud announcement. The
guests drew back. 'Really! is she to come in procession like a queen?'
'Upon my soul, this is too much to swallow!' 'Quelle insolence!' One
could hear these murmurs run through the assemblage; nevertheless the
guests fell back obediently, making room for the solemn entry of his
Highness.

'Is she beautiful, at least?' queried a gentleman who, having but
recently returned from the army, had not yet s