any a pleasing spectacle
for the people. But to Virginia he was far more; an ideal Sir Galahad,
or a St. George strong and brave to slay all dragon-wrongs which might
threaten his wide land.

"What if he should never love me?" was the one sharp thought which
pierced her pride of him.

The people were proud, too, as he sat there controlling the white
war-horse with its gold and silver trappings, the crusted jewels of
many Orders sparkling on his breast, while he saluted his subjects, in
his soldier's way.

For a moment there was a pause, save for a shouting, which rose and
rose again; then he alighted, whereupon important looking men with
ribbons and decorations came forward bowing, to receive the Emperor.
The ceremony of unveiling the statue of Rhaetia was about to begin.

To reach the great crimson-draped platform on which he was to stand,
the Emperor must pass within a few yards of Virginia. His gaze flashed
over the gay crowd. What if it should rest upon her? The girl's heart
was in her throat. She could feel it beating there; and for a moment
the tall, white figure was lost in a mist which dimmed her eyes.

She had forgotten how she came to this place of vantage, forgotten the
pale man in gray and red to whom she owed her good fortune; but
suddenly, while her heart was at its loudest, and the mist before her
eyes at its thickest, she grew conscious again of his existence,
poignantly conscious of his close presence. So near her he stood that
a quick start, a gathering of his muscles for a spring, shot like an
electric message through her own body.

The mist was burnt up in the flame of a strange enlightenment, a
clarity of vision which showed, not only the hero of the day, the
throng, and the wax-white man beside her, but something which was in
the soul of that man as well.

"He is going to kill the Emperor."

It was as if a voice spoke the words in her ear. She knew now why she
had struggled to win this place, why she had succeeded, what she had
to do--or die in failing to do.

Leopold was not half a dozen yards away, and was coming nearer. No one
but Virginia suspected evil. She alone had felt the thrill of a
murderer's nerves, the tense spring of his muscles. She alone guessed
what the roll of parchment hid.

"Now--now!" the voice seemed to whisper again, and she had no fear.

While the crowd shouted wildly for "Unser Leo!" a man in gray and red
leaped, catlike, at the white figure that advanced. Som