The Princess Charles von Felsen-Schvoenig was also in Jerusalem, but she stayed at a hospice in the Christian quarter, where a friendly bishop and two or three other English Christians were included among the guests. In a fortnight’s time she would be _en route_ for the Rhenish principality where her husband was patiently awaiting her return, but at the present moment her one desire was to “do” Jerusalem thoroughly, and in this she succeeded fairly well. Armed with Baedeker’s guide, she called at Dr. Engelmacher’s house for Lady Patricia, and chartering a light _arabiyeh_, drove wherever the streets would permit. The influence of the British Consul and Turkish Governor, combined with an unlimited amount of _backsheesh_, gained admittance to the innermost courts of the _Harâm_, and most effectually paved the way to the various places of interest. But the enjoyment of the Princess was somewhat marred by her inherent scepticism. She refused to believe in many cases that certain events happened on the exact spots to which they were ascribed, and therefore the great fascination of them was lost. For the city itself she possessed the deepest reverence; indeed it was this very reverence which made the morbid hallowing of certain rocks and stones so repugnant to her mind. Descended from a strictly Puritanical race, she found it impossible to manifest enthusiasm for relics—so many of them spurious—and the numerous mementoes sold by avaricious Moslems. The fanaticism of some of the Latins and Greeks was to her as incomprehensible as it was revolting. She was obliged to visit the Church of the Holy Sepulchre by herself; for Patricia, being nominally a Jewess, was not permitted to enter the sacred precincts. So she left her friend in the little _arabiyeh_ to meditate on the ambiguity of her position, and descended to the paved quadrangle alone. After what seemed a very long time she returned, thankful to be out again in the fresh air. “Well?” said Patricia, with a smile, as she made room for her in the carriage. “Did it come up to your expectations?” “Yes—and no,” the Princess replied, sitting down with relief. “To me the chapels are tawdry in the extreme, and the building enclosing the Holy Sepulchre is a miracle of bad taste. But to see the adoration of the pilgrims is wonderful; what a pity that the place has been desecrated by so much bloodshed! I wish you could come with me next time I go.” “Impossible,” returned her friend, as the vehicle pursued its way. “I should be drawn and quartered by the mob. You forget that I am to all intents and purposes a Jewess.” “Ridiculous!” “But I am,” the girl insisted, as though trying to convince herself; “otherwise I could not be Lionel’s wife.” “And you are happy?” “As Lionel’s wife, yes. As a Jewess, no. Fortunately, my husband’s love is more than compensation for the difficulty I find in his religion.” “Then, by your experience, mixed marriages are a success?”