“The Grand Duke,” went on the Baron, “died ten years ago. He left enormous wealth and no children except the missing princess. He had always refused to believe her dead, and in his will he left all his fortune to her and provided for keeping up the search for her. If she was not found in twenty years, the estates were to escheat to the crown. “Count Strogoff was made trustee of these estates, and as time passed on, and the princess did not appear, he doubtless came to look upon them as his own. Undoubtedly he will demand the best of proof before giving them up. But slowly and surely I have traced the matter and riveted the proofs one by one until they are indisputable. “I was about to send for Professor Shishkin--Count Lladislas--when he suddenly started for Russia on the _Sea Spume_, bringing with him this lady whom he supposed to be his daughter, but who was really the Princess Yves Napraxine.” As the Baron spoke, he drew Florence forward. “I have the honor,” he declared, “to present to you the Princess Yves Napraxine.” Florence faced them boldly. Her face was white. The desperation of a cornered rat shone in her eyes. Her swelling heart seemed about to suffocate her. Yet she faced them all, head high; she would take her medicine bravely when the time came; at least, they should not call her coward. Olga, too, was pale. The revelation of her birth stunned her; the complications terrified her; the loss at one blow of him whom she had always called father and the substitution of fresh kindred and fresh life made her brain reel. Desperately she strove to reduce the confusion to order. The Baron gave her time. “The Princess Yves Napraxine,” he went on suavely, “has done me the honor to consent to become my wife. I come now to ask my good friend the _Chargé_ to permit the ceremony to be performed at his Embassy by the American clergyman. Immediately afterwards we will be remarried by the full rites of the Greek Church.” The _Chargé_ said something courteous, but no one except the Baron heard him. The rest were listening to Olga and the Professor. The former had found her tongue at last. Gently she laid her hand on the old man’s sleeve. “Is this true?” she questioned softly. Long the Professor gazed into her eyes, and what he read there gave him courage.