far-famed Countess Marlanx, the most
glorious beauty at the Austrian and Russian courts. She had gone forth
from Graustark as its most notable bride since the wedding day of the
Princess Yetive, late in the nineties. Ingomede, the beautiful, had
journeyed far to the hymeneal altar; the husband who claimed her was a
hated, dishonoured man in his own land. They were married in Buda Pesth.
All Europe pitied her at the time; there was but one form of prophecy as
to her future. There were those who went so far as to say that her
father had delivered her into the hands of a latter-day Bluebeard, who
whisked her off into the highlands many leagues from Vienna.

She was seen no more in the gay courts for a year. Then, of a sudden,
she appeared before them all, as dazzlingly beautiful as ever, but with
a haunting, wistful look in her dark eyes that could not be mistaken.
The old Count found an uneasy delight in exhibiting her to the world
once more, plainly as a bit of property that all men were expected to
look upon with envy in their hearts. She came up out of the sombre
hills, freed from what must have been nothing less than captivity in
that once feudal castle, to prove to his world that she thrived in spite
of prophetic babblers. They danced from court to court, grotesquely
mis-mated, deceiving no one as to the true relations that existed
between them. She despised him without concealment; he took pride in
showing that he could best resent her attitude by the most scrupulous
devotion, so marked that its intent could not be mistaken.

Then the Duke of Perse resumed his residence in Edelweiss, opening the
old palace once more to the world. His daughter, after the death of the
Princess, began her extended visits to the home of her girlhood. So long
as the Princess was alive she remained away from Edelweiss, reluctant to
meet the friend who had banished her husband long before the wedding
day in Buda Pesth. Now she came frequently and stayed for weeks at a
time, apparently happy during these escapes from life in the great
capitals. Here, at least, she was free from the grim old man whose
countess she was; here, all was sweet and warm and friendly, delicious
contrast to the cold, bitter life she knew on the Danube.

Without warning she came and without farewells she left Edelweiss on the
occasion of these periodical visits. No word was ever spoken concerning
her husband, except on the rare occasions when she opened her heart to