The George Barr McCutcheon MEGAPACK ®. George Barr McCutcheon

silence of love was fraught with a conversation felt, not heard.

      “Why are you so quiet?” he asked, at last, stopping near the rail.

      “I cannot tell you why. It seems to me that I am afraid of you,” she answered, a shy quaver in her voice.

      “Afraid of me? I don’t understand.”

      “Nor do I. You are not as you were before this morning. You are different—yes, you make me feel that I am weak and helpless and that you can say to me ‘come’ and ‘go’ and I must obey. Isn’t it odd that I, who have never known submissiveness, should so suddenly find myself tyrannized?” she asked, smiling faintly.

      “Shall I tell you why you are afraid of me?” he asked.

      “You will say it is because I am forgetting to be a Princess.”

      “No; it is because you no longer look upon me as you did in other days. It is because I am a possibility, an entity instead of a shadow. Yesterday you were the Princess and looked down upon the impossible suitor; today you find that you have given yourself to him and that you do not regard the barrier as insurmountable. You were not timid until you found your power to resist gone. Today you admit that I may hope, and in doing so you open a gate through the walls of your pride and prejudice that can never be closed against the love within and the love without. You are afraid of me because I am no longer a dream, but a reality. Am I not right, Yetive?”

      She looked out over the hazy, moonlit park.

      “Yesterday I might have disputed all you say; today I can deny nothing.”

      Leaning upon the railing, they fell into a silent study of the parade ground and its strollers. Their thoughts were not of the walkers and chatterers, nor of the music, nor of the night. They were of the day to come.

      “I shall never forget how you said ‘because I love him,’ this morning, sweetheart,” said Lorry, betraying his reflections. “You defied the whole world in those four words. They were worth dying for.”

      “How could I help it? You must not forget that you had just leaped into the lion’s den defenseless, because you loved me. Could I deny you then? Until that moment I had been the Princess adamant; in a second’s time you swept away every safeguard, every battlement, and I surrendered as only a woman can. But it really sounded shocking, didn’t it? So theatrical.”

      “Don’t look so distressed about it, dear. You couldn’t help it, remember,” he said, approvingly.

      “Ach, I dread tomorrow’s ordeal!” she said, and he felt the arm that touched his own tremble. “What will they say? What will they, do?”

      “Tomorrow will tell. It means a great deal to both of us. If they will not submit—what then?”

      “What then—what then?” she murmured, faintly.

      Across the parade, coming from the direction of the fountain, Harry Anguish and Dagmar were slowly walking. They were very close together, and his head was bent until it almost touched hers. As they drew nearer, the dreamy watchers on the balcony recognized them.

      “They are very happy,” said Lorry, knowing that she was also watching the strollers.

      “They are so sure of each other,” she replied, sadly.

      When almost directly beneath the rail, the Countess glanced upward, impelled by the strange instinct of an easily startled love, confident that prying eyes were upon her. She saw the dark forms leaning over the rail and rather jerkily brought her companion to a standstill and to a realization of his position. Anguish turned his eyes aloft.

      “Can you, fair maid, tell me the names of those beautiful stars I see in the dark dome above?” he asked, in a loud, happy voice. “Oh, can they be eyes?”

      “Eyes, most noble sir,” replied his companion. “There are no stars so bright.”

      “Methought they were diamonds in the sky at first. Eyes like those must belong to some divinity.”

      “They do, fair student, and to a divinity well worth worshiping. I have heard it said that men offer themselves as sacrifices upon her altars.”

      “Unless my telescope deceives me, I discern a very handsome sacrifice up there, so I suppose the altar must be somewhere in the neighborhood.”

      “Not a hand’s breadth beneath her eyes,” laughed the Countess, as she fled precipitately up the steps, followed by the jesting student.

      “Beware of a divinity in wrath,” came a sweet, clear voice from the balcony, and Anguish called out from his safe retreat, like the boy he was:

      “Ah, who’s afraid!”

      The Princess was laughing softly, her eyes radiant as they met those of her companion, amused yet grave.

      “Does he have a care?” she asked.

      “I fear not. He loves a Countess.”

      “He has not to pay the price of ambition, then?” said she, softly.

      “Ambition is the cheapest article in the world,” he said. “It concerns only a man’s self.”

      CHAPTER XXVIII

      THE MAID OF GRAUSTARK

      Expectancy, concern, the dread of uncertainty marked the countenances of Graustark’s ministers and her chief men as they sat in the council chamber on the day following, awaiting the appearance of their Princess, at whose call they were unexpectedly assembled. More than two score eyes glanced nervously toward the door from time to time.

      All realized an emergency. No sooner were they out of one dilemma than another cast its prospects across their path, creating the fear that rejoicing would be short. While none knew the nature of the business that called them together, each had a stubborn suspicion that it related to the stirring declarations of the day before. Not one in that assembly but had heard the vivid, soulful sentence from the throne. Not one but wished in secret as Gaspon and Halfont had wished in open speech.

      When the Princess entered with the prime minister they narrowly scanned the face so dear to them. Determination and cowardice were blended in the deep blue eyes, pride and dejection in the firm step, strength and weakness in the loving smile she bestowed upon the faithful counsellors. After the greetings she requested them to draw chairs about the great table. Seating herself in her accustomed seat, she gazed over the circle of anxious faces and realized, more than at any time in her young life, that she was frail and weak beyond all comparison. How small she was to rule over those strong, wise men of hers; how feeble the hand that held the sceptre.

      “My lords,” she said, summoning all her strength of mind and heart, “I am gratified to find you so ready to respond to the call of your whimsical sovereign. Yesterday you came with hearts bowed down and in deepest woe. Today I assemble you here that I may ask your advice concerning the events of that strange day. Bolaroz will do as he has promised. We are to have the extension papers this afternoon, and Graustark may breathe again the strong, deep breath of hope. You well remember my attitude on yesterday. You were shocked, horrified, amazed by my seemingly ignoble effort to preserve my preserver’s life. We will pass over that, however. It is to discuss my position that I have called you here. To begin, I would have sacrificed my kingdom, as you know, to save him. He was innocent and I loved him. If, on yesterday, I would not let my kingdom stand between me and my love, I cannot do so today. I have called you here to tell you, my lords, that I have promised to become the wife of the man who would have given his life for you and for me—that I love as a woman, not as a Princess.”

      The silence of death stole into the room. Every man’s eyes were glued upon the white face of the Princess and none could break the spell. They had expected it, yet the shock was overwhelming; they had feared it, yet the announcement stupefied them. She looked straight before her, afraid to meet the eyes of her subjects, knowing that sickening disapproval dwelt in them. Not a word was uttered for many seconds. Then old Caspar’s tense muscles relaxed and his arms dropped limply from their