ime at Auguste Comte's smugness, and
looked at his watch. Twenty-five minutes to seven! It was too late now
to do other than write--if he succeeded. If not--ah, well! "Some of them
are slain in the flower of their youth." At least, she would remember,
and those glorious eyes of hers would glisten with tears, and the belief
helped to console him. Still, he was saddened, disappointed, almost
dulled. Doubt came darkly with the dispelling of the dream that he might
commence his Odyssey with Joan's first and farewell kiss on his lips.
Love and ambition seemed to be at variance; but love had flown, whereas
ambition remained.

Back, then, to the Rue Boissiere, to an uproar of visitors, sightseers,
journalists. Prince Michael had become Monseigneur again. He was holding
a reception. Alec, pressing through the throng, was waylaid by a
servant.

"This way, monsieur," whispered the man, drawing him into a passage and
thence to the room of Princess Delgrado. Alec was soothing his mother's
grief when his father entered secretly on tiptoe with the hushed voice
and stealthy air of a conspirator. He carried a parcel, long and narrow,
wrapped in brown paper.

"I have been consumed with anxiety," said he. "Julius came and warned me
that your departure from Paris ought to be incognito. This is wise; so I
remain King-elect till you reach Delgratz. The newspapers are pestering
me to declare a program. They all expect that I shall leave Paris
to-night or early to-morrow. Indeed, an impudent fellow representing
'_Le Soir_' says that if I don't bestir myself I shall be christened the
Sluggard King. But I shall humbug them finely. Leave that to me. Your
portmanteaus have been smuggled out by way of the servants' quarters,
and you must vanish unseen. Buy a ticket for Vienna, ignore Stampoff
during the journey, accept my blessing, and take this." He held out the
parcel.

"What is it?" inquired Alec.

"My father's sword, your grandfather's sword. I have kept it bright for
you."

Alec squirmed. He knew the weapon, a curved simitar inlaid with gold,
and reposing in a scabbard of gilt metal and purple velvet. In its
wrapping of brown paper and twine it suspiciously resembled a child's
toy, and Prince Michael's grandiloquent manner added a touch of
buffoonery to a farewell scene made poignant by a woman's tears.

"I shall use it only on the skulls of eminent personages," said Alec
gravely. In truth, this Parisian kingship was rapidly becoming