unt? The voyage with Herman made me ever
so much stronger; and living here with you has been a delightful
after-cure. A delightful holiday."

"But your holiday will soon be over. Will you now be able to play your
part again?"

He smiled, while his sad eyes expressed calm resignation:

"Certainly, aunt. Life can't be always holidays. I should think I had
had my fill of them, doing nothing for six weeks except lie on the sand,
or in the woods, or in that most comfortable wicker chair of Herman's!"

"Have you done nothing besides?" she said, playfully.

"How do you mean?"

"Saved Valerie's life, for instance?"

He gave a slight movement of gentle impatience: "But, aunt, I didn't
really. I suppose the papers will go and say I did, but there was really
no saving in the matter. Valerie knows how to swim and she was close to
the shore."

"I've had a letter from papa, Othomar."

"From papa?"

"Yes.... Have you never thought of ... Valerie?"

He reflected for a second:

"Perhaps," he laughed.

"Do you feel no affection for her?"

"Certainly, aunt.... I thought papa preferred the Grand-duchess Xenia?"

The queen shrugged her shoulders:

"There's the question of her religion, you know. And papa would be just
as glad of an Austrian alliance.... How do you propose to make the
journey? And when do you start?"

"Ducardi and the others will be here this week. Towards the end of the
week. First to Copenhagen, London, Brussels, Berlin and then to Vienna."

"And to Sigismundingen."

"Yes, Sigismundingen, if papa wishes."

"But what do you wish, Othomar?"

He looked at her gently, smiling, shrugged his shoulders:

"But, aunt, what wish have I in the matter?"

"Could you grow fond of Valerie?"

"I think so, aunt; I think she is very sweet and very capable and
thorough."

"Yes, that she certainly is, Othomar! Would you not speak to her before
you go?"

"Aunt...."

"Why shouldn't you?"

"Aunt, I can't do that. I am only staying a few days longer, and ..."

"Well?"

"Valerie has had a great sorrow. She cannot but still be suffering under
it. Think, aunt, it was yesterday. Good God, yesterday!... And to-day she
was so calm, so natural.... But it must be so, mustn't it? She must
still be suffering very severely. She went on the sea this morning, in
this weather: we don't know, do we, aunt, but we all think the same
thing! Perhaps we are quite mistaken. Things are often different from
what they seem. But,