Hunter." Then, when he had handed in the message, and paid, there was
but just time to buy his ticket, engage a whole first-class
compartment, for himself, and dash into it, before his train was due
to start.

As it moved slowly out of the big station, Leopold's brain rang with
the noble music of his great resolve. He could see nothing, think of
nothing but that. His arms ached to clasp his love; his lips, cheated
last night, already felt her kisses; for she would give them now, and
she would give herself. He was treading the past of an Empire under
foot, in the hope of a future with her; and every throb of the engine
was taking him nearer to the threshold of that future.

But such moments of supreme exaltation come rarely in a lifetime. The
heart of man or woman could not beat on for long with such wild music
for accompaniment; and so it was that, as the moments passed, the song
of the Emperor's blood fell to a minor key. He thought passionately of
Virginia, but he thought of his country as well, and tried to weigh
the effect upon others of the thing that he was prepared to do. There
was no one on earth whom Leopold of Rhaetia need fear, but there was
one to whom he owed much, one whom it would be grievious to offend.

In his father's day, one man--old even then--had built upon the
foundations of a tragic past, a great and prosperous nation. This man
had been to Leopold what his father had never been; and without the
magic power of inspiring warm affection, had instilled respect and
gratitude in the breast of an enthusiastic boy.

"Poor old von Breitstein!" the Emperor sighed; "The country is his
idol--the country with all the old traditions. He'll feel this break
sorely. I'd spare him if I could; but I can't live my life for him--"

He sighed again, and looked up frowning at a sudden sound which meant
intrusion.

Like a spirit called from the deep, there stood the Chancellor at the
door between Leopold's compartment and the one adjoining.

CHAPTER XIV

THE EMPEROR AT BAY

Iron Heart was dressed in the long, double-breasted gray overcoat and
the soft gray hat in which all snapshot photographs (no others had
ever been taken) showed the Chancellor of Rhaetia.

At sight of the Emperor off came the famous hat, baring the bald dome
of the fine old head, fringed with hair of curiously mingled black and
white.

"Good day, your Majesty," he said, with no sign of surprise in his
voice or face.

The tra