n thereof, and I refuse to build my Kingdom on the broken
vows of traitors."

"Ha! Stupid words! The ravings of cheap philosophers! By your own
showing, I am a traitor."

"Yes, but an honest one. You fought fairly and were beaten. Were it
otherwise, Theodore would never have tried so often to tempt you to his
service."

The General flung himself back in the carriage and folded his arms. The
steel spring was relaxed. He was baffled, and the weariness of life had
suddenly enveloped him in its chilling fog. "Very well, then. We descend
at Chalons," he said, with a sigh that was a tribute to adverse fate.

"Having paid for your ticket, you may as well come on to Vienna," said
Alec with irritating composure.

"Curse Vienna! Why should I take that long journey for nothing?"

"To oblige me."

"You'll drive me crazy. How will it oblige you?"

"Because I am going to Delgratz, General, and there is a whole lot of
things I want to ask you."

Stampoff bounced up again. "Will you be so kind as to explain what you
mean?" he cried indignantly.

"Oh, yes. We are going to talk far into the night, and it is only fair
that you should know my intentions. Otherwise, the valuable counsel you
will give me might be misdirected, as it is, for instance, at the
present moment, when you are heatedly advising me to throw in my lot
with a set of rascals who, when I fail to satisfy their demands, would
turn and rend me just as they have rended Theodore. Be sure that their
object was selfish, Stampoff. Not one of these men has ever seen Prince
Michael or myself. Even their leaders must have been mere boys when
Ferdinand VII. was attacked--probably by their fathers. Well, I shall
have none of them. They and their like are the curse of Kosnovia. Who
will pay taxes to keep me in the state that becomes a King? Not they.
Who will benefit by good government and honest administration of the
laws? Assuredly not they, for they batten on corruption; they are the
maggots not the bees of industry. Over whom, then, shall I reign?

"I am young, Paul; but I have read and thought,--not very deeply,
perhaps, but I have looked at things in that strong, clear light of
Paris, which is heady at times, like its good wine, but which enables
men to view art and politics and social needs in their nakedness. And I
am half an American, too, which accounts for certain elements in my
composition that detract from French ideals. A Frenchman cannot
understand, Paul, w