ere sealed.

My mother looked after the betrothed couple as they walked away; I
looked at my mother's fine high-bred resolute face.

"I'm so glad," said she at last, "to see Victoria so happy. I was afraid
at one time that she'd never take to it. Of course we had other hopes."

The last words were a hit at me. I ignored them; that battle had been
fought, the victory won, and paid for by me in handsome fashion.

"Has she taken to it?" I asked as carelessly as I could. But my mother's
eyes turned keenly on me.

"Have you any reason for thinking she hasn't?" came in quick question.

"No," I answered.

The sun was shining and Princess Heinrich opened her parasol very
leisurely. She rose to her feet and stood there for a moment. Then in a
smooth, even, and what I may call reasonable voice, she remarked:

"My dear Augustin, from time to time all girls have fancies. We mothers
know that it doesn't do to pay any attention to them. They soon go if
they're let alone. We shall meet at lunch, I hope?"

I bowed respectfully, but perhaps I looked a little doubtful.

"It really doesn't do to take any notice of them," said my mother over
her shoulder.

So we took no notice of them; my sister's midnight flight to my room and
to my arms was between her and me, and for all the world as though it
has never been, save that it left behind it a little legacy of renewed
kindliness and trust. For that much I was thankful; but I could not
forget the rest.

A month later she was married to William Adolphus at Forstadt.

CHAPTER VIII.

DESTINY IN A PINAFORE.

The foreign tour I undertook in my eighteenth year has been
sufficiently, or even more than sufficiently, described by the
accomplished and courtly pen of Vohrenlorf's secretary. I travelled as
the Count of Artenberg under my Governor's guidance, and saw in some
ways more, in some respects less, than most young men on their travels
are likely to see. Old Hammerfeldt recommended for my reading the
English letters of Lord Chesterfield to his son, and I studied them with
some profit, much amusement, and an occasional burst of impatience; I
believe that in the Prince's opinion I, like Mr. Stanhope, had hitherto
attached too little importance to, and not attained enough proficiency
in, "the graces"; concealment was the life's breath of his statescraft,
and "the graces" help a man to hide everything--ideals, emotions,
passions, his very soul. It must have been an immense s