brilliant wit that the princess did
not hold in perpetuity the court at her end of the table. For a German
princess of that time she was highly accomplished; she was ardent,
whimsical, with a flashing mentality which rounded out and perfected her
physical loveliness. Above and beyond all this, she had suffered, she
had felt the pangs of poverty, the smart of unrecognized merit; she had
been one of the people, and her sympathies would always be with them,
for she knew what those about her only vaguely knew, the patience, the
unmurmuring bravery of the poor. Never would she become sated with power
so long as it gave her the right to aid the people. Never a new tax was
levied that she did not lighten it in some manner; never an oppressive
law was promulgated that she did not soften its severity. And so the
populace loved her, for it did not take the people long to find out what
she was trying to do for them. And perhaps they loved her because she
had lived the greater part of her young life as one of them.

To-night there was love in the duke's eyes as he looked down the table's
length; there was love in the old chancellor's eyes, too; and in
Carmichael's. And there was love in her eyes as she gazed back at the
two old men. But who could read her eyes whenever they roved in
Carmichael's direction? Not even Gretchen's grandmother, who lived in
the Krumerweg.

"Gentlemen," said the duke, rising and holding up his glass, "this night
I give you a toast which I believe will be agreeable to all of you,
especially to his excellency, Baron von Steinbock of Jugendheit. What is
past is past; a new regime begins this night." He paused. All eyes were
focused upon him in wonder. Only Baron von Steinbock displayed no more
than ordinary interest. "I give you," resumed the duke, "her serene
highness and his majesty, Frederick of Jugendheit!"

The princess grew delicately pale as the men and women sprang to their
feet. Every hand swept toward her, holding a glass. She had surrendered
that morning. Not because she wished to be a queen, not because she
cared to bring about an alliance between the two countries; no, it was
because she was afraid and had burned the bridge behind her.

The tan thinned on Carmichael's face, but his hand was steady. Never
would he forget the tableau. She sat still in her chair, her lids
drooped, but a proud lift to her chin. The collar of pearls round her
neck had scarce more luster than her shoulders. How red