iration and some anxiety.

"Grandmother," Hedwig whispered from her window to the austere old
bronze figure in the Place, "was it like this with you, at first? Did
you shiver when he touched your hand? And doesn't it matter, after a
year?"

"Very feeble," said the Archduchess's voice; behind her, "but so
brave--a lesson to us all."

"He has had a long and conspicuous career," Karl observed. "It is sad,
but we must all come to it. I hope he will be able to see me."

"Hedwig!" said her mother, sharply, "your tea is getting cold."

Hedwig turned toward the room. Listlessness gave her an added dignity, a
new charm. Karl's eyes flamed as he watched her. He was a connoisseur in
women; he had known many who were perhaps more regularly beautiful, but
none, he felt, so lovely. Her freshness and youth made Olga, beautifully
dressed, superbly easy, look sophisticated and a trifle hard. Even her
coldness appealed to him. He had a feeling that the coldness was only
a young girl's armor, that under it was a deeply passionate woman. The
thought of seeing her come to deep, vibrant life in his arms thrilled
him.

When he carried her tea to her, he bent over her. "Please!" he said.
"Try to like me. I--"

"I'm sorry," Hedwig said quickly. "Mother has forgotten the lemon."

Karl smiled and, shrugging his shoulders, fetched the lemon. "Right,
now?" he inquired. "And aren't we going to have a talk together?"

"If you wish it, I dare say we shall."

"Majesty," said Hilda, frowning into her teacup. "I see a marriage for
you." She ignored her mother's scowl, and tilted her cup to examine it.

"A marriage!" Karl joined her, and peered with mock anxiety at the
tea-grounds. "Strange that my fate should be confined in so small a
compass! A happy marriage? Which am I?"

"The long yellow leaf. Yes, it looks happy. But you may be rather
shocked when I tell you."

"Shocked?"

"I think," said Hilda, grinning, "that you are going to marry me."

"Delightful!"

"And we are going to have--"

"Hilda!" cried the Archduchess fretfully. "Do stop that nonsense and let
us talk. I was trying to recall, this morning," she said to Karl, "when
you last visited us." She knew it quite well, but she preferred having
Karl think she had forgotten. "It was, I believe, just before Hubert--"

"Yes," said Karl gravely, "just before."

"Otto was a baby then."

"A very small child. I remember that I was afraid to handle him."

"He is a curious boy, ol