"Stay with us, Prince Udo, and help us! Men are so wise, so brave, so--so generous. They know nothing of the little petty feelings of revenge that women indulge." "Really, Countess, we--er--you--er---- Of course there is a good deal in what you say, and I--er----" "Won't you sit down again, Prince Udo?" Udo sat down next to her. "And now," said Belvane, "let's talk it over comfortably as friends should." "Of course," began Udo, "I quite see your point. You hadn't seen me; you didn't know anything about me; to you I might have been just any man." "I knew a little about you when you came here. Beneath the--er--outward mask I saw how brave and dignified you were. But even if I could have got you back into your proper form again, I think I should have been afraid to; because I didn't know then how generous, how forgiving you were." It seemed to be quite decided that Udo was forgiving her. When a very beautiful woman thanks you humbly for something you have not yet given her, there is only one thing for a gentleman to do. Udo patted her hand reassuringly. "Oh, thank you, your Royal Highness." She gave herself a little shake and jumped up. "And now shall I show you my beautiful garden?" "A garden with you in it, dear Countess, is always beautiful," he said gallantly. And it was not bad, I think, for a man who had been living on watercress and bran-mash only the day before. They wandered round the garden together. Udo was now quite certain it was going to be a nice day. It was an hour later when he came into the library. Hyacinth greeted him eagerly. "Well?" she said. Udo nodded his head wisely. "I have spoken to her about her conduct to me," he said. "There will be no more trouble in that direction, I fancy. She explained her conduct to me very fully, and I have decided to overlook it this time." "But her robberies, her plots, her conspiracy against _me!_" Udo looked blankly at her for a moment and then pulled himself together. "I am speaking to her about that this afternoon," he said. CHAPTER XVII THE KING OF BARODIA DROPS THE WHISKER HABIT King Merriwig sat in his tent, his head held well back, his eyes gazing upwards. His rubicund cheeks were for the moment a snowy white. A hind of the name of Carlo had him firmly by the nose. Yet King Merriwig neither struggled nor protested; he was, in fact, being shaved. The Court Barber was in his usual conversational mood. He released his Majesty's nose for a moment, and, as he turned to sharpen his razor, remarked, "Terrible war, this." "Terrible," agreed the King. "Don't seem no end to it, like." "Well, well," said Merriwig, "we shall see." The barber got to work again. "Do you know what I should do to the King of Barodia if I had him here?" Merriwig did not dare to speak, but he indicated with his right eye that he was interested in the conversation. "I'd shave his whiskers off," said Carlo firmly.