About three days after Princess Amalie’s arrival, it struck her suddenly that she ought to call upon the Princess of Dardania, who was also her niece, but whom she had not seen for some time, owing to the unfortunate series of events which had long ago alienated the Princess from her relations. Félicia was driving with Queen Ernestine, with whom she agreed as well as could be expected when they had not a single taste or thought in common, and as Princess Amalie’s own _dame d’honneur_ was ill, she borrowed Maimie for the afternoon. Maimie had by this time become accustomed to being regarded as a mere chattel, an appendage to Félicia, and was by no means loath to accompany the old lady, from whose chatter she expected to pick up a good deal of useful information. She knew that the Princess of Dardania had an old grudge against Count Mortimer, and as she sat silent and apart during the visit, holding Princess Amalie’s lap-dog, she heard, as she had anticipated, the canoness beginning her tale afresh. Every disparaging remark, every calculated rebuff, was detailed over again, the Princess of Dardania listening with lazy satisfaction, commenting on what she heard rather with her great black eyes and arched eyebrows than by word of mouth. “Then what is the poor Count to do, while Ernestine queens it at Molzau, and he is shut out?” she asked at last. “Will he go to England, to his brother?” “I don’t quite know,” said Princess Amalie, unwilling to confess herself at a loss. “Ah, but Miss Logan will know. They were explaining their plans to Félicia last night, and she was there.” “And did Miss Logan happen to hear how Count Mortimer proposed to enjoy his week of liberty?” asked the Princess. “He is going to Thracia, madame, and her Majesty is to join him there.” “To Thracia--from the south of Pannonia? It will be a long journey.” Maimie was conscious of something in the Princess’s tone which seemed like repressed excitement. She answered promptly, “He intends to go through Illyria, madame. There is only a few miles of country between the Pannonian and Mœsian railways, and he will save time by driving from one to the other instead of taking the long round.” “To drive across Illyria---- Ah!” said the Princess slowly. Again there was that hint of eagerness in her manner, and Maimie caught it. The Princess looked up, and saw the responsive sparkle in her eye. Instantly her own face changed. “Illyria is a country of very beautiful scenery. I have travelled there a good deal,” she said, with a dead calmness in her tone, and Maimie was left to wonder what memory, or what project, had provoked that sudden excitement. For some reason she suspected that it did not bode well for Count Mortimer, and she was glad of it, though it was not evident to her what the Princess could do to annoy him.