her ambition, her education which, by dint of hard work, she had
acquired. It was all very puzzling and interesting and romantic. For
what purpose had she been stolen, and by whom? The duke accused Franz of
Jugendheit, but he did so privately. Search as they would, the duke and
the chancellor never traced the source of the remittances. The duke held
stubbornly that the sender of these benefactions was moved by the
impulse of a guilty conscience, and that this guilty conscience was in
Jugendheit. But these remittances, argued Herbeck, came long after the
death of the old king. He had his agents, vowed the duke. Herbeck would
not listen to this. He preferred to believe that Count von Arnsberg was
the man.

There was an endless tangle of red tape before the girl became secure in
her rights. But finally, when William of Prussia and Franz Josef of
Austria congratulated the duke, everybody else fell into line, and every
troop in the duchy came to Dreiberg to the celebration. Then the world
ran away in pursuit of other adventures, and forgot all about her serene
highness.

And was she happy with all this grandeur, with all these lackeys and
attentions and environs? Who can say? Sometimes she longed for the
freedom and lack-care of her Dresden garret, her musician friends, the
studios, the crash and glitter of the opera. To be suddenly deprived of
the fruits of ambition, to reach such a pinnacle without striving, to be
no longer independent, somehow it was all tasteless with the going of
the novelty.

She looked like a princess, she moved and acted like one, but after the
manner of kindly fairy princesses in story-books. All fell in love with
her, from the groom who saddled her horse, to the chancellor, who up to
this time was known never to have loved anything but the state.

She was lovely enough to inspire fervor and homage and love in all
masculine minds. She was witty and talented. Carmichael said she was one
of the most beautiful women in Europe. Later he modified this statement
by declaring that she was the most beautiful woman in Europe or
elsewhere. Yet, often she went about as one in a waking dream. There was
an aloofness which was not born of hauteur but rather of a lingering
doubt of herself.

She was still in the window-seat when the chancellor was announced. She
distrusted him a little, she knew not why; yet, when he bent over her
hand she was certain that his whole heart was behind his salute.

"Your Hig