the pilgrimage and had thus her first knowledge of it. She was
incredulous at first, and stood gazing, gripping the stone railing with
tense hands. She watched, horror-stricken. The Crown Prince, himself,
come to Etzel to pray! For his grandfather, of course. Then, indeed,
must things be bad with the King, as bad as they could be.

The Crown Prince was very warm. She could see the gleam of his
handkerchief as he wiped his damp face. She could see the effort of his
tired legs to keep step with the standard-bearer.

The bells again. How she hated them! They rang out now to welcome the
pilgrims, and a procession issued from the church door, a lay brother
first, carrying a banner, then the fathers, two by two; the boys from
the church school in long procession. The royal party halted at the foot
of the street. The fathers advanced. She could make out Father Gregory's
portly figure among them. The bell tolled. The villagers stood in
excited but quiet groups, and watched.

Then the two banners touched, the schoolboys turned, followed by the
priests. Thus led, went the Crown Prince of Livonia to pray for his
grandfather's life.

The church doors closed behind them.

Olga Loschek fell on her knees. She was shaking from head to foot. And
because the religious training of her early life near the shrine had
given her faith in miracles, she prayed for one. Rather, she made a
bargain with God:-- If any word came to her from Karl, any, no matter,
to what it pertained, she would take it for a sign, and attempt flight.
If she was captured, she would kill herself.

But, if no word came from Karl by the hour of her departure the next
morning, then she would do the thing she had set out to do, and let him
beware! The King dead, there would be no King. Only over the dead bodies
of the Livonians would they let him marry Hedwig and the throne. It
would be war.

Curiously, while she was still on her knees, her bargain made, the plan
came to her by which, when the time came, the Terrorists were to rouse
the people to even greater fury. Still kneeling, she turned it over in
her mind. It was possible. More, it could be made plausible, with her
assistance. And at the vision it evoked,--Mettlich's horror and rage,
Hedwig's puling tears, her own triumph,--she took a deep breath. Revenge
with a vengeance, retaliation for old hurts and fresh injuries, these
were what she found on her knees, while the bell in the valley commenced
the mass, an