On the principle of “Findings, keepings,” as children say, Wilfrid took possession of the article, which was of the finest cambric, delicately perfumed, and edged with beautiful lace. Now, although the title of princess is sometimes borne—in Russia, at least—by persons of doubtful station, Wilfrid had felt that this was not the case with _his_ princess; and on unfolding the handkerchief he received a startling proof of the correctness of his opinion, for the centre of the cambric exhibited the figure of a double-headed eagle wrought in gold thread. “The Imperial Arms!” muttered Wilfrid. His look of blank surprise was as nothing compared with that of Nadia’s. She, indeed, seemed not only amazed, but quite frightened by the discovery. “The Czar’s Arms!” she gasped. “Is she a member of the Imperial house—A Grand Duchess?” It seemed so, if the handkerchief were to be taken as proof, but how near to the throne there was no means of telling. She might be a very distant relative of the Czar; on the other hand, she might be a niece, or even a daughter! Wilfrid’s head swam at the thought. No wonder he ran the risk of being slaughtered by her suite if found in her bedroom! That eagle in gold thread was not only a startling sight, but an unwelcome one to Wilfrid; it seemed to put a sudden stop to his love-dream. For him to think of mating with a princess of the Imperial house of Romanoff would indeed be the height of audacity; and yet, if the lady herself were willing—and the tender glance of her dark-blue eyes had given him a lover’s hope—he was quite ready to brave all risks on her behalf. If she were a Romanoff, was he not a Courtenay, with imperial blood in his veins, descended from the Byzantine emperors and permitted by the Garter king-at-arms to bear the proud title of _Æquus Cæsaribus_—equal to Cæsars? But soon his thoughts took a lower flight. “We have jumped to conclusions too hastily,” he said to Nadia. “The possession of the handkerchief doesn’t necessarily prove that she is a Grand Duchess. It may have been a gift of the Czar.” This way of looking at the matter seemed to relieve Nadia’s mind somewhat, though why she should look so troubled over the discovery was a puzzle to Wilfrid. “Besides,” he continued, “if she were an Imperial Duchess, her suite would select, as her stopping-place for the night, the castle of some grand boyar, rather than a wayside hostelry.” But Nadia opined there was no force in this argument, seeing that the great Catharine herself had on one occasion stopped at the Silver Birch, and had slept in that very chamber. And Wilfrid was forced to admit to himself that it was an argument in favour of the Imperial theory that the chief of her escort was no less a personage than the Czarovitch’s own aide-de-camp, namely, Prince Ouvaroff. If she were not a Grand Duchess she must at least be some one of distinguished rank.