King, and remembered only that she was a woman,
and terror-stricken. She flung out her arms, and then buried her face in
them.

"How can I help it?" she said.

"How can you do it?" Olga Loschek countered. "After all, it is you who
must do this thing. No one else. It is you they are offering on the
altar of their ambition."

"Ambition?"

"Ambition. What else is it? Surely you do not believe these tales they
tell--old wives' tales of plot and counterplot!"

"But the Chancellor--"

"Certainly the Chancellor!" mocked Olga Loschek. "Highness, for years
he has had a dream. A great dream. It is not for you and me to say it is
not noble. But, to fulfill his dream to bring prosperity and greatness
to the country, and naturally, to him who plans it, there is a price to
pay. He would have you pay it."

Hedwig raised her face and searched the other woman's eyes.

"That is all, then?" she said. "All this other, this fright, this talk
of treason and danger, that is not true?"

"Not so true as he would have you believe," replied Olga Loschek
steadily. "There are malcontents everywhere, in every land. A few madmen
who dream dreams, like Mettlich himself, only not the same dream. It is
all ambition, one dream or another."

"But my grandfather--"

"An old man, in the hands of his Ministers!"

Hedwig rose and paced the floor, her fingers twisting nervously. "But
it is too late," she cried at last. "Everything is arranged. I cannot
refuse now. They would--I don't know what they would do to me!"

"Do! To the granddaughter of the King. What can they do?"

That aspect of things; to do her credit, had never occurred to Hedwig.
She had seen herself, hopeless and alone, surrounded by the powerful,
herself friendless. But, if there was no danger to save her family from?
If her very birth, which had counted so far for so little, would bring
her immunity and even safety?

She paused in front of the Countess. "What can I do?" she asked
pitifully.

"That I dare not presume to say. I came because I felt--I can only say
what, in your place, I should do."

"I am afraid. You would not be afraid." Hedwig shivered. "What would you
do?"

"If I knew, Highness, that some one, for whom I cared, himself cared
deeply enough to make any sacrifice, I should demand happiness. I rather
think I should lose the world, and gain something like happiness."

"Demand!" Hedwig said hopelessly. "Yes, you would demand it. I cannot
demand things. I a