ed
back against the prelate.

"He is dying," she whispered; "he is dying for me!"

Maurice was now in the grasp of the final delirium. "Come on!" he cried;
"come on! I will show you how a brave man can die. Come on, Messieurs
Medals and Clothes! Aye, who will go out with me?" He raised the saber,
and it caught the flickering light as it trailed a circle above his
head. He stumbled toward them, sweeping the air with the blade. Suddenly
there came a change. He stopped. The wild expression faded from his
face; a surprised look came instead. The saber slipped from his fingers
and clanged on the floor. He turned and looked at the princess, and that
glance conveyed to her the burden of his love. "Mademoiselle...." His
knees doubled, he sank, rolled face downward, and a dark stain appeared
and widened on the marble floor.

"Go, Madame," said the prelate. "This palace is indeed a tomb." He felt
the princess grow limp on his arm. "Go."

"Maurice!" cried Fitzgerald, springing to the side of the fallen man.
"My God! Maurice!"

CHAPTER XXVIII. INTO THE HANDS OF AUSTRIA

Madame, surrounded by her staff and courtiers, sat in the main salon
of the Continental Hotel, waiting for the archbishop. The false,
self-seeking ministers of Leopold's reign crowded around her to pay
their respects, to compliment and to flatter her. Already they saw a
brilliant court; already they were speculating on their appointments.
Offices were plenty; new embassies were to be created, old embassies to
be filled anew.

Madame listened to all coldly. There was a canker in her heart, and no
one who saw that calm, beautiful face of hers dreamed how deeply the
canker was eating. There were two men who held aloof from compliments
and flattery. On the face of one rested a moody scowl; on the other,
agony and remorse. These two men were Colonel Mollendorf and Lord
Fitzgerald. The same thought occupied each mind; the scene in the throne
room.

Presently an orderly announced: "Monseigneur the archbishop."

Madame arose, and all looked expectantly, toward the door.

The old prelate entered, his head high and his step firm. He appeared
to see no one but Madame. But this time she met his glance without a
tremor.

"Monseigneur," she began, "I have come into my own at last. But for you
and your ambitious schemes, all this would not have come to pass. You
robbed my father of his throne and set your puppet there instead. By
trickery my father was robbed