epths of her immature, unsoftened heart, was given
altogether to manlike ambition and the desire of power, the eyes were by
turns bold, inviting, fiery, melting, and artful, like the eyes of a
rapacious siren. And artful, in a sense, she was. Chafing that she was
not a man, and could not shine by action, she had conceived a woman's
part, of answerable domination; she sought to subjugate for by-ends, to
rain influence and be fancy free; and, while she loved not man, loved to
see man obey her. It is a common girl's ambition. Such was perhaps that
lady of the glove, who sent her lover to the lions. But the snare is
laid alike for male and female, and the world most artfully contrived.

Near her, in a low chair, Gondremark had arranged his limbs into a
cat-like attitude, high-shouldered, stooping, and submiss. The
formidable blue jowl of the man, and the dull bilious eye, set perhaps a
higher value on his evident desire to please. His face was marked by
capacity, temper, and a kind of bold, piratical dishonesty which it would
be calumnious to call deceit. His manners, as he smiled upon the
Princess, were over-fine, yet hardly elegant.

'Possibly,' said the Baron, 'I should now proceed to take my leave. I
must not keep my sovereign in the ante-room. Let us come at once to a
decision.'

'It cannot, cannot be put off?' she asked.

'It is impossible,' answered Gondremark. 'Your Highness sees it for
herself. In the earlier stages, we might imitate the serpent; but for
the ultimatum, there is no choice but to be bold like lions. Had the
Prince chosen to remain away, it had been better; but we have gone too
far forward to delay.'

'What can have brought him?' she cried. 'To-day of all days?'

'The marplot, madam, has the instinct of his nature,' returned
Gondremark. 'But you exaggerate the peril. Think, madam, how far we
have prospered, and against what odds! Shall a Featherhead?--but no!'
And he blew upon his fingers lightly with a laugh.

'Featherhead,' she replied, 'is still the Prince of Grunewald.'

'On your sufferance only, and so long as you shall please to be
indulgent,' said the Baron. 'There are rights of nature; power to the
powerful is the law. If he shall think to cross your destiny--well, you
have heard of the brazen and the earthen pot.'

'Do you call me pot? You are ungallant, Baron,' laughed the Princess.

'Before we are done with your glory, I shall have called you by many
different