She appeared presently, in a white costume embroidered with dull gold, in the drawing-room where her parents sat with the empress and with Hélène of Thesbia and the Austrian ladies-in-waiting. Shortly after, Othomar came too, with his sisters and the Archduke of Carinthia. And, when the deputation of young ladies of rank was announced and appeared, with Eleonore of Yemena in its midst, Valérie listened with her usual smile to the address recited by the little marchioness, with a gracious gesture accepted from the hands of two other girls the great case which they caused to fly open, showing, upon light velvet, a triple necklace of great pearls. And she was able to find a few pretty phrases of thanks: she uttered them in a clear voice; and no one who heard her would have suspected that she had passed a sleepless night, bathed in tears, with before her eyes the lifeless body of a young man with shattered temples. The young ladies of the deputation were permitted to see the wedding-presents, which were displayed in a large room; Princess Thera and the ladies-in-waiting accompanied them. There, in that room, it was like a sudden gleam of brilliancy, flashing in the daylight from the long tables on which the presents stood surrounded by flowers: the heavily-gilt candelabra, gilt and crystal table- and tea-services, gilt and silver caskets from various towns, an Altara Cathedral in silver, silver ships with delicate, swelling sails from naval institutions and jewelled gifts from all the royal friends and relations in Europe. On a satin cushion lay, like a fairy trinket, a sparkling duchess' diadem of big sapphires and brilliants, one of the presents of the bride's future parents-in-law. And very striking was Princess Thera's present: the Duke of Xara's portrait, a work of art that had already been seen at exhibitions in both capitals. But it had little likeness to the original left and was therefore the despair of the princess. It was younger, more indecisive, feebler than the prince looked now: a little thinner than of old, but with a fuller moustache and a lightly curling beard on his cheeks. The melancholy eyes had acquired more of the Empress Elizabeth's cold glance; in other respects too Othomar resembled his mother more than before. But what was still noticeable in the young prince, in his nervous refinement, was the look of race, his trenchant distinction, his air of lawful haughtiness. He had lost much of his rigidity, his stiff tactlessness, and had gained something more resolute and assured; and, in spite of his colder look, this inspired more confidence in a crown-prince than his always winning but somewhat feeble presence of former days. The thoughts seemed to be more sharply outlined on his features, the words to come more pointedly from between his lips; he seemed to have more self-reliance, to care less for what others might think of him. It was, although not yet quite consciously, that unique