hal's departure, von Wallenstein and
Mollendorf entered the prelate's breakfast room.

"Good morning, Messieurs," said the churchman, the expression on his
face losing its softness, and the glint of triumph stealing into
his keen eyes. "I am acting on behalf of his Majesty this morning,"
presenting a document to each. "Observe them carefully." He turned and
left the room. The archbishop had not only eaten a breakfast, he had
devoured a cabinet.

Count von Wallenstein watched the retreating figure of the prelate till
the door closed behind it; then he smiled at Mollendorf, who had not the
courage to return it, and who stared at the parchment in his hand as if
it were possessed of basilisk eyes.

"Monseigneur," said the count, as he glanced through the contents of
the document, "has forestalled me. Well, well; I do not begrudge him his
last card. He has played it; let us go."

"Perhaps," faltered Mollendorf, "he has played his first card. What are
you going to do?"

"Remain at home and wait. And I shall not have long to wait. The end is
near."

"Count, I tell you that the archbishop is not a man to play thus unless
something strong were behind him. You do wrong not to fear him."

Von Wallenstein recalled the warning of the Colonel of the cuirassiers.
"Nevertheless, we are too strong to fear him."

"Monseigneur is in correspondence with Austria," said the minister of
police, quietly.

"You said nothing of this before," was the surprised reply.

"It was only this morning that I learned it."

The count's gaze roamed about the room, and finally rested on the
charred slips of paper in the grate. He shrugged.

"If he corresponds with Austria it is too late," he said. "Come, let us
go." He snapped his fingers in the air, and Mollendorf followed him from
the room.

* * * * * *

The princess still remained on the rustic bench; her head was bowed, but
her tears were dried.

"O, Bull," she whispered, "and you and I shall soon be all alone!"

A few doves fluttered about her; the hills flamed beneath the chill
September sky, the waters sang and laughed, but she saw not nor heard.

CHAPTER XIX. A CHANCE RIDE IN THE NIGHT

Maurice, who had wisely slept the larger part of the day, and amused
himself at solitary billiards until dinner, came out on the terrace
to smoke his after-dinner cigar. He watched the sun as, like a ball of
rusted brass, it slid down behind the hills, leaving the glowing embers
of a