to the breaking
point. Karl, who hated a scene, found himself the victim of one, and was
none the happier that she who had so long held him off was now herself
at arm's length, and struggling.

Bitterly, and with reckless passion, she flung at him Hedwig's
infatuation for young Larisch, and prophesied his dishonor as a result
of it. That leaving him cold and rather sneering, she reviewed their
old intimacy, to be reminded that in that there had been no question of
marriage, or hope of it.

"I am only human, Olga," he said, in an interval when she had fallen
to quiet weeping. "I loved you very sincerely, and for a long time.
Marriage between us was impossible. You always knew that."

In the end she grew quiet and sat looking into the fire with eyes full
of stony despair. She had tried and failed. There was one way left, only
one, and even that would not bring him back to her. Let Hedwig escape
and marry Nikky Larisch--still where was she? Let the Terrorists strike
their blow and steal the Crown Prince. Again--where was she?

Her emotions were deadened, all save one, and that was her hatred of
Hedwig. The humiliation of that moment was due to her. Somehow, some
day, she would be even with Hedwig. Karl left her there at last, huddled
in her chair, left full of resentment, the ashes of his old love cold
and gray. There was little reminder of the girl of the mountains in the
stony-eyed woman he had left sagged low by the fire.

Once out in the open air, the King of Karnia drew a long breath. The
affair was over. It had been unpleasant. It was always unpleasant to
break with a woman. But it was time. He neither loved her nor needed
her. Friendly relations between the two countries were established; and
soon, very soon, would be ratified by his marriage.

It was not of Olga Loschek, but of Hedwig that he thought, as his car
climbed swiftly to the lodge.

CHAPTER XXVII. THE LITTLE DOOR

Hedwig had given up. She went through her days with a set face, white
and drawn, but she knew now that the thing she was to do must be done.
The King, in that stormy scene when the Sister prayed in the next room,
had been sufficiently explicit. They had come on bad times, and could no
longer trust to their own strength. Proud Livonia must ask for help, and
that from beyond her border.

"We are rotten at the core," he said bitterly. "An old rot that has
eaten deep. God knows, we have tried to cut it away, but it has gone too
f