The Grand-Duke and Duchess came from Molzau, Queen Ernestine from her sick-bed at Vindobona, Lord and Lady Caerleon from Geneva, where they had just laid in the grave the exiled Pauline Vassilievna, who had been more than a mother to Lady Caerleon. Never had the little inn at Drinitza been so full, or entertained such important guests, but the old landlord felt no desire to congratulate himself. The “little Princess” had won every heart during her stay, and now, to all appearance, she was dying. When her parents first arrived, she seemed to recognise them--Usk was certain that she did--but she relapsed immediately into a state in which she appeared to be conscious of nothing but pain. As if it had not been agony enough to see her suffer, Usk found very soon that the blame was supposed to be his. The Grand-Duchess could not forgive either him or Cyril for the accident. At least, she said resentfully, she thought she was securing a kind and thoughtful husband for her Lenchen when she gave her to him, but he had gone and sacrificed her to his uncle before they had been four months married. She would have kept him out of the sick-room altogether if she could, and when he insisted on taking part in the nursing, mounted guard over him the whole time to make sure that he did not disturb Helene by speaking to her. If Usk’s heart had not been very sore, and a good deal troubled by remorse, for which no one but himself and the Grand-Duchess could see any reason, he would have rebelled; but he could not engage in a squabble over his wife’s unconscious form, and his imperious mother-in-law rode roughshod over him. To his astonishment, it was the Grand-Duke who took his part. He also was banished from the sick-room, and he did not venture to dispute his wife’s decision, but he made friends with Usk in a rough kind of way, and they would take long walks together almost in silence, finding a fellow-feeling in their common grief. The Grand-Duchess, in a fury of maternal anxiety so vehement as almost to be ludicrous, made no secret of the fact that she would have preferred to be left with only Queen Ernestine and Lady Caerleon to share her labours. True, she bore a grudge against the Queen because she was Cyril’s wife, but she credited her with a genuine interest in Helene, which she denied to any of the men. They could talk of politics, she said with scorn, when Lenchen lay dying. The accusation had some colour, unreasonable though it sounded. The question of the relations between Michael and Félicia had reached an acute stage, and must speedily become common property if no solution could be devised for it.