“My eldest daughter, as you know, is married to King Albrecht of Mœsia. I thought him all I could desire; he seemed thoroughly in sympathy with my schemes; but no sooner was he married than he became a German of the Germans, and Bettine followed his example. Thus I lost Mœsia from my Slavonic confederation. But with my son it was even worse. You know, of course, that he was to marry the Grand-Duchess Sonya Eugenovna. Her mother has long been dead, and she spent much of her time with me. All seemed to go well between her and Alexis; but shortly before his father died, when I wished him to propose to her, he refused flatly. He had met Princess Emilia of Magnagrecia at the Pannonian Court, and declared that he would marry no one else. In vain I pointed out the disgrace he was bringing upon me; he married Princess Emilia a month ago; and now I am only welcome in Dardania, as in Mœsia, on sufferance. Surely even you must pity me?” “Madame,” interposed Cyril, in tones of deep emotion, “your gracious confidence forces me to speak. The idea of detaching your son from the Grand-Duchess Sonya, and attracting him to the lady who is now his wife, was mine.” The Princess sat as if stunned. She had known the truth perfectly well, and Cyril was aware of this. It was his confession that took her by surprise. “You have made amends by your chivalrous action to-day,” she said at last, with a sad smile. “Your kindness overwhelms me, madame. Have I your Highness’s permission to retire? I know my presence must be distasteful.” “No; there is something else you can do, Count. I have another son, and I have set my heart on his becoming governor of Palestine. That is in your power to bring about.” “Alas, madame! Why ask me the one impossible thing? The decision does not rest with me, nor even with my friends.” The Princess smiled more gently still. “I must take the will for the deed, I suppose?” she said. “That is poor comfort for an anxious mother, Count. But don’t think I blame you. You will come here occasionally when your niece is with us, and assure yourself that we are taking proper care of her? We need not sadden the young with the knowledge of our troubles. Come as often as you like, and do not feel compelled to ask for me. I cannot forget that I am growing old.” “Then, madame, you succeed where all the rest of the world has failed,” responded Cyril, kissing the beautiful hand she held out to him. His manner was remorseful, and his eyes lingered on her face as he left the room. As soon as he was gone, the Princess crossed the floor to a large mirror.