al was made to avoid wars, not to marry them.
And civil war--" He shrugged his shoulders.

"You have said yourself, sire, that we all have a certain discontent."

"The Princess Hedwig," Karl said suddenly. "She has been told, of
course?"

"Not officially. She knows, however."

"How does she regard it?"

The Chancellor hesitated. "Like most young women, she would prefer
making her own choice. But that," he added hastily, "is but a whim. She
is a lovable and amiable girl. When the time comes she will be willing
enough."

Karl stared out through one of the heavily curtained windows. He was not
so sure. And the time had gone by when he would have enjoyed the taming
of a girl. Now he wanted peace--was he not paying a price for it?--and
children to inherit his well-managed kingdom. And perhaps--who knows?--a
little love. His passionate young days were behind him, but he craved
something that his unruly life had not brought him. Before him rose a
vision of Hedwig her frank eyes, her color that rose and fell, her soft,
round body.

"You have no reason to believe that she has looked elsewhere?"

"None, sire," said the Chancellor stoutly.

By late afternoon all was arranged, papers signed and witnessed, and the
two signatures affixed, the one small and cramped--a soldier's hand;
the other bold and flowing--the scrawl of a king. And Hedwig, save for
the ceremony, was the bride of Karl of Karnia.

It was then that the Chancellor rose and stretched his legs. "And now,
sire," he said, "since we are friends and no longer enemies, you will, I
know, release that mad boy of mine."

"When do you start back?"

"Within an hour."

"Before that time," said Karl, "you shall have him, Chancellor."

And with that Mettlich was forced to be content. He trusted Karl no more
now than he ever had. But he made his adieus with no hint of trouble in
his face.

Karl waited until the machine drove away. He had gone to the doorstep
with the Chancellor, desiring to do him all possible honor. But Mettlich
unaccustomed to democratic ways, disapproved of the proceeding, and was
indeed extremely uncomfortable, and drew a sigh of relief when it was
all over. He was of the old order which would keep its royalties on
gilded thrones and, having isolated there in grandeur, have gone about
the business of the kingdom without them.

Karl stood for a moment in the open air. It was done, then, and well
done. It was hard to realize. He turned to the