come at the last hour. Men, with
pale faces and tearful eyes, wandered through the ancient castle,
speechless, nerveless, miserable. Brave soldiers crept about, shorn of
pride and filled with woe. Citizens sat and stared aimlessly for hours,
thinking of naught but the disaster so near at hand and so unavoidable.
The whole nation surged as if in the last throes of death. To-morrow
the potency of Graustark was to die, its domain was to be cleft in
twain,--disgraced before the world.

And, on the throne of this afflicted land sat the girl, proud, tender,
courageous Yetive. To all Graustark she was its greatest, its most
devoted sufferer; upon her the blow fell heaviest. There she sat,
merciful and merciless, her slim white hand ready to sign the shameful
deed in transfer, ready to sell her kingdom for her love. Beneath her
throne, beneath her feet, cowered six souls, possessors of the secret.
Of all the people in the world they alone knew the heart of the Princess
Yetive, they alone felt with her the weight of the sacrifice. With
wistful eyes, fainting hearts and voiceless lips five of them watched
the day approach, knowing that she would not speak and that Graustark
was doomed. Loyal conspirators against that which they loved better than
their lives--their country--were Dangloss, Quinnox, Allode, Ogbot and
Dagmar. To-morrow would see the north torn from the south, the
division of families, the rending of homes, the bursting of hearts. She
sanctioned all this because she loved him and because he had done no
wrong.

Aware of her financial troubles and pursuing the advantage that his
rival's death had opened to him, Prince Gabriel, of Dawsbergen, renewed
his ardent suit. Scarce had the body of the murdered Prince left the
domain before he made his presence marked. She was compelled to receive
his visits, distasteful as they were, but she would not hear his
propositions. Knowing that he was in truth the mysterious Michael who
had planned her abduction, she feared and despised him, yet dared make
no public denunciation. As Dawsbergen was too powerful to be antagonized
at this critical time, she was constantly forced to submit to the
most trying and repulsive of ordeals. Tact and policy were required to
control the violent, hot-blooded young ruler from the south. At times
she despaired and longed for the quiet of the tomb; at other times she
was consumed by the fires of resentment, rebelling against the ignominy
to which she