in all an englishman’s wonder and impatience at so intolerable a system of surveillance, i made my way back to the palace.

the dance was in full swing again. in the crowd i could not for the moment see any one of my three friends. the king was on a da?s chatting in animated fashion to a group standing round him. his daughter, the princess casilde, presently came out of the throng of dancers, and sat beside him, joining laughingly in the conversation. i saw the great cavalry swell, the master of the horse, von orsova, waltzing with a plain-looking girl, and was just wondering what sort of a soldier’s heart beat beneath that glorious tunic, when von lindheim came up.

“lindheim,” i said, “a queer thing happened after you fellows left me just now.”

“what do you mean?” he asked, looking grave, though he tried to smile.

“i was passing through the wood by the chapel when a fellow accosted me, and——”

he stopped me. “hush, for heaven’s sake. here! come in here and tell me. how do you like the new decoration?” he went on in a louder tone, with a wave of the hand towards the ceiling and walls; “this is only the second time the saal has been used since the scaffolding came down. it was closed all the spring.”

[pg 16]

his extraordinary change of tone and subject led me for a moment to wonder whether he had not been paying too assiduous court to the royal champagne: then i concluded that it was a blind. talking on commonplace subjects, we sauntered across the adjoining music-saal, thence to a deserted room, one of the great suite of state apartments.

“now,” he said, lowering his voice and speaking anxiously, “tell me what happened.”

i told him. his face grew graver and whiter every moment. “what does it mean?” i said. “is it officialism gone mad?”

“worse than that,” he replied. “i cannot tell you. only for your life, for the lives of all of us, don’t breathe a word of it—not even to yourself.”

i looked at him inquisitively, and indeed my curiosity was greater than my concern. “is there any danger,” i asked, “in my inquiring the name of the fellow who honoured me with the cross-examination?”

“do for heaven’s sake dismiss the whole affair,” von lindheim answered impatiently. “don’t think we have done anything wrong,” he added quickly; “it is less and yet worse than that. our only chance is that we were not recognized.”

they had been, of course, and it was on the tip of my tongue to say so, but i checked myself, thinking i would not add to his uneasiness, unreasonable as it seemed. there i made a great mistake, as the story will show.

“we had better get back to the ball-room,” my friend said nervously. “do you know there are said to be twenty thousand separate pieces in that great chandelier? it is one of the most elaborate specimens of glass work in the world.”

my inspection of this interesting piece of work was cut short by von lindheim’s directing my attention, [pg 17]in an equally abrupt manner, to a specimen of nature’s handicraft far more engaging.

“here,” he said, “let me introduce you to fr?ulein asta von winterstein. she is one of the maids of honour, and the most charming girl in buyda.”

the fr?ulein’s looks decidedly confirmed his words; a merry-looking girl, with a lovely face, and that air of youth and spirits which is so eloquent of the joie de vivre.

“you are fortunate in getting a dance with fr?ulein von winterstein,” lindheim said.

“i am only just off duty,” she laughed, “and my card is a blank.”

i was beginning a complimentary remark when my friend said, “excuse my depriving you of five seconds of the fr?ulein’s society, my dear tyrrell, but i have a message to give her.”

they drew aside and i waited. happening to glance at them i noticed that a cloud had come over the girl’s face; both looked grave as they spoke in an undertone, then the girl’s natural animation returned, and with a few laughing words to von lindheim, she left him and came to me. a swinging waltz was being played and we took several turns. when we stopped i remarked:

“our friend, von lindheim, seems worried about something, i’m afraid he takes officialism too seriously.”

“an englishman cannot understand the peculiarities of our life here.”

i was rather tired of being told that, albeit rather glad of my ignorance. still, i did not mind the adage from this girl; she was breezy and sensible, and determined not to be too insular with respect to buyda officialism.

“don’t you admire the princess?” my partner asked.

[pg 18]

“she is very pretty.”

“every one thinks her lovely.”

“she is not the only belle in the room.”

“hush!—luckily; for she is out of reach.”

“naturally. herr rittmeister von orsova is a fine specimen of a man.”

“you are the genius of indiscretion. a splendid fellow.”

“i hope he is all through alike, and that the grit and pluck correspond to the spectacular part of the show.”

“why should you doubt it?”

“i don’t for a moment. only nature does sometimes send out inferior goods in smart cases.”

“he is as brave as he is handsome.”

“good! oh, by——!”

“what is the matter?”

i had stopped in the waltz, with the result that the next couple cannoned against us severely. the reason of my sudden pull-up was something which in the whirl had passed my eye.

bending over the da?s in close conversation with the king was a man whom i had not observed there before. and that man’s was the face i had seen peering into the chapel window. the expression was altered now, but the face was the same, one never to be mistaken or forgotten, a face curiously striking in its suggestion of immense power and indomitable will, yet ugly almost to repulsiveness.

“who is that?” i asked eagerly. “that man talking to the king?”

the girl looked at me curiously. “surely you know him, at least by sight. no? why, that is our great chancellor, graf von rallenstein.”