d that you delay not your departure
to the frontier. This kingdom is a crown land. It shall remain so by the
consent of the confederation. If you refuse to obey this injunction,
an army will enforce the order. Believe me, Madame, this office is
distasteful to me, but it was not avoidable. What disposition am I to
submit to his Majesty?"

"Monsieur," she said, "I am without choice in the matter. To pit my
forces against the emperor's would be neither politic nor sensible. I
submit." There was not a sign of any emotion, no hint of the terrible
wrath which lay below the surface of those politely modulated tones. But
it seemed to her as she stood there, the object of all eyes, that some
part of her soul had died. Her pride surmounted the humiliation, the
pride of a woman and a princess. She would show no weakness to the
world.

"Then, Madame," said the ambassador, suppressing the admiration in his
eyes at this evidence of royal nonchalance, "I shall inform his Majesty
at once."

When he had gone, Madame turned coldly to her stricken followers.
"Messieurs, the fortunes of war are not on our side. I thank you for
your services. Now leave me; I wish to be alone."

One by one they filed out into the corridors. The orderly was the last
to leave, and he closed the door behind him. Madame surveyed the room.
All the curtains were drawn. She was alone. She stood idly fingering the
papers which lay scattered on the table. Suddenly she lifted her hands
above her head and clenched them in a burst of silent rage. A dupe!
doubly a dupe! To-morrow the whole world would laugh at her, and she was
without means of wreaking vengeance. Presently the woman rose above the
princess. She sat down, laid her face on her arms and wept.

Fitzgerald stepped from behind one of the curtains. He had taken refuge
there during the archbishop's speech. He had not the strength to witness
the final humiliation of the woman he loved. He was gazing out of the
window at the troops in the Platz when the door closed.

Madame heard the rustle of the curtain and looked up. She sprang to her
feet, her eyes blazing.

"You?" she cried. "You? You have dared to hide that you might witness my
weakness and my tears? You...."

"Madame!"

"Go! I hate you!"

"Ah, Madame, we always hate those whom we have wronged. Do not forget
that I love you, with a love that passes convention."

"Monsieur, I am yet a princess. Did you not hear me bid you go?"

"Why?" in a voi