thought it was too late to hope for that,
and I must give him up, because I never could be sure if I accepted
him without his love, and he _said_ it had come afterwards, that it
was really, really true. Anyway, it could never be the same; and I
was miserable over what might have been. Then, suddenly, I saw how it
still might be. I almost think I may be able to win his love, if
you'll promise to help me, dear."

"Of course I will," said the Grand Duchess, carried out of her pretty
little, conventional self into unwonted impulsiveness, by the warmth
of kisses soft and sweet as the roses on Virginia's bosom.

"That is, I will if I can. But I don't at all see what I can do."

"I see. And what I want you to do, is to please, _please_ see with my
eyes."

"They're very bright ones," smiled her mother.

Princess Virginia clasped the Grand Duchess round the waist so tightly
that it hurt. Then she laughed, an odd, half-frightened, excited
laugh. "Dearest, something perfectly wonderful is going to happen to
you and me," she said. "The most wonderful thing that ever has
happened. We are going to have a--great--adventure. And what the end
of it will be--I don't know."

CHAPTER II

FOUR GENTLEMEN OF IMPORTANCE

Twilight fell late in the tiny Rhaetian village of Alleheiligen. So
high on the mountain side were perched the simple inn and the group of
brown chalets clustering round the big church with its bulbous,
Oriental spire, that they caught the last red rays of sunset and held
them flashing on burnished copper roof plates, and jeweling small,
bright window-panes long after the green valley below was curtained
with shadow.

One September evening, two dusty traveling carriages toiled up the
steep, winding road that led to the highest hamlet of the Rhaetian
Alps, and a girl walking beside the foremost driver (minded, as he
was, to save the jaded horses) looked up to see Alleheiligen
glittering like a necklet of gems on the brown throat of the mountain.
Each window was a great, separate ruby set in gold; the copper bulb
that crowned the church steeple was a burning carbuncle; while above
the flashing band of gorgeous color, the mountain reared its head,
facing westward, its steadfast features carved in stone, the brow
snow-capped and rosy where the sun touched it, blue where the shadows
lay.

The driver assured the young English lady, whom he much admired for
her pluck as well as beauty, that she had far better re