to offset the
rumors of Hedwig's marriage.

But the idea was not his, although he adopted it. It had had its
birth in the little room with the Prie-dieu and the stand covered with
bottles, had been born of the Sister's belief in the miracles of Etzel.

However, he appropriated it, and took it to the King.

"A pilgrimage!" said the King, when the mater was broached to him. "For
what? My recovery? Cannot you let your servant depart in peace?"

"Pilgrimages," observed the Chancellor, "have had marvelous results,
sire. I do not insist that they perform miracles, as some believe,"--he
smiled faintly,--"but as a matter of public feeling and a remedy for
discord, they are sometimes efficacious."

"I see," said the King. And lay still, looking at the ceiling.

"Can it be done safely?" he asked at last.

"The maddest traitor would not threaten the Crown Prince on a
pilgrimage. The people would tear him limb from limb."

"Nevertheless, I should take all precautions," he said dryly. "A madman
might not recognize the--er--religious nature of the affair."

The same day the Chancellor visited Prince Ferdinand William Otto, and
found him returned from his drive and busy over Hedwig's photograph
frame.

"It is almost done," he said. "I slipped over in one or two places, but
it is not very noticeable, is it?"

The Chancellor observed it judicially, and decided that the slipping
over was not noticeable at all. Except during school hours Miss
Braithwaite always retired during the Chancellor's visits, and so now
the two were alone.

"Otto," said the Chancellor gravely, "I want to talk to you very
seriously."

"Have I done anything?"

"No." He smiled. "It is about something I would like you to do. For your
grandfather."

"I'll do anything for him, sir."

"We know that. This is the point. He has been ill for along time. Very
ill."

The boy watched him with a troubled face. "He looks very thin," he said.
"I get quite worried when I see him."

"Exactly. You have heard of Etzel?"

Prince Ferdinand William Otto's religious instruction was of the best.
He had, indeed, heard of Etzel. He knew the famous pilgrimages in order,
and could say them rapidly, beginning, the year of Our Lord 915--the
Emperor Otto and Adelheid, his spouse; the year of Our Lord 1100,
Ulrich, Count of Ruburg; and so on.

"When people are ill," he said sagely, "they go to Etzel to be cured."

"Precisely. But when they cannot go, they send some one