wn Prince did not live? He was sturdy
enough, but it was possible. Then Hedwig, Queen of Karnia, would be
Queen of Livonia. A dual kingdom then, with Karl as Hedwig's consort, in
control, undoubtedly. It would be the end of many dreams.

It seemed to him in those early hours, that they were, indeed, paying a
price. Preparations were making for Karl's visit. Prince Hubert's rooms
were opened at last, and redecorated as well as possible in the short
time at command, under the supervision of the Archduchess. The result
was a crowding that was neither dignified nor cheerful. Much as she
trimmed her own lean body, she decorated. But she was busy, at least,
and she let Hedwig alone.

It was not unusual, those days, to find Annunciata, flushed with
exertion, in the great suite on an upper floor, in the center of a chaos
of furniture, shoving chairs about with her own royal arms, or standing,
head on one side, to judge what she termed the composition of a corner.
Indignant footmen pushed and carried, and got their wigs crooked and
their dignified noses dirty, and held rancorous meetings in secluded
places.

But Annunciata kept on. It gave her something to think of in place of
the fear, that filled her, made her weary enough to sleep at night.

And there was something else that comforted her.

Beyond the windows of the suite was a flat roof, beneath which was the
ballroom of the Palace. When the apartment was in use, the roof was made
into a garden, the ugly old walls hidden with plants in tubs and boxes,
the parapet edged with flowers. It was still early, so spring tulips
were planted now on the parapet, early primroses and hyacinths. In the
center an empty fountain was cleared, its upper basins filled with water
vines, its borders a riot of color. When the water was turned on, it
would be quite lovely.

But it was not the garden on the roof which cheered Annunciata. It had,
indeed, rather sad memories. Here had Hubert's young wife kept her cages
of birds, fed with her own hands, and here, before Otto was born, she
had taken the air in a long chintz-covered chair.

Annunciata, overseeing the roof as she had overseen the apartment,
watched the gardeners bringing in their great loads of plants from the
summer palace, and saw that a small door, in a turret, was kept free of
access. To that door, everything else failing, the Archduchess pinned
her faith. She carried everywhere with her a key that would open it.

Long ago h