m always too frightened."

The Countess rose. "I am afraid I have done an unwise thing," she said,
"If your mother knew--" She shrugged her shoulders.

"You have only been kind. I have so few who really care."

The Countess curtsied, and made for the door. "I must go," she said,
"before I go further, Highness. My apology is that I saw you unhappy,
and that I resented it, because--"

"Yes?"

"Because I considered it unnecessary."

She was a very wise woman. She left then, and let the next step come
from Hedwig. It followed, as a matter of record, within the hour,
at least four hours sooner than she had anticipated. She was in her
boudoir, not reading, not even thinking, but sitting staring ahead, as
Minna had seen her do repeatedly in the past weeks. She dared not think,
for that matter.

Although she was still in waiting, the Archduchess was making few
demands on her. A very fever of preparation was on Annunciata. She spent
hours over laces and lingerie, was having jewels reset for Hedwig, after
ornate designs of her own contribution, was the center of a cyclone
of boxes, tissue paper, material, furs, and fashion books, while maids
scurried about and dealers and dressmakers awaited her pleasure. She
was, perhaps, happier than she had been for years, visited her father,
absently and with pins stuck in her bosom, and looked dowdier and busier
than the lowliest of the seamstresses who, by her thrifty order, were
making countless undergarments in a room on an upper floor.

Hedwig's notification that she would visit her, therefore, found the
Countess at leisure and alone. She followed the announcement almost
immediately, and if she had shown cowardice before, she showed none now.
She disregarded the chair Olga Loschek offered, and came to the point
with a directness that was like the King's.

"I have come," she said simply, "to find out what to do."

The Countess was as direct.

"I cannot tell you what to do, Highness. I can only tell you what I
would do."

"Very well." Hedwig showed a touch of impatience. This was quibbling,
and it annoyed her.

"I should go away, now, with the person I cared about."

"Where would you go?"

"The world is wide, Highness."

"Not wide enough to hide in, I am afraid."

"For myself," said the Countess, "the problem would not be difficult.
I should go to my place in the mountains. An old priest, who knows me
well, would perform the marriage. After that they might find me if