had contrived to buy secretly; portraits of Leopold from an early age, up to the present, when he was shown as a tall, dark, cold-eyed, warm-lipped, firm-chinned young man of thirty. There were paragraphs cut from newspapers, telling of his genius as a soldier, his prowess as a mountaineer and hunter of big game, with dramatic anecdotes of his haughty courage in time of danger, his impulsive charities, his well thought out schemes for the welfare of his subjects in every walk of life.
There were black and white copies of bold, clever pictures he had painted; there was martial music composed by him, and plaintive folk-songs adapted by him, which Virginia had tried softly to herself on her little piano, when nobody was near. There were reports of speeches made by him since his accession to the Throne; accounts of improvements in guns, and an invention of a new explosive; there was a somewhat crude, yet witty play which he had written; and numerous other records of the accomplishments and achievements, and even eccentricities which had built up the Princess Virginia’s ideal of this celebrated young man, proclaimed Emperor after the great revolution eight years ago.
“You are worthy to be an Empress.”
Her mother’s voice broke into Virginia’s thoughts. She started, and found herself under inspection by the Grand Duchess. At first she frowned, then she laughed, springing up on a quick impulse to turn earnest into jest, and so perhaps escape further catechising.
“Yes, would I not make an Empress?” she echoed, stepping out from the shadow of her favorite elm, into the noontide radiance of summer.
The sun poured over her hair, as she stood with uplifted head, and threaded it with a network of living gold, gleaming into the dark gray eyes rimmed with black lashes and turning them to jewels. Her fair skin was as flawless in the unsparing light as the petals of lilies, and her features, though a repetition of those which had made a Virginia girl famous long ago, were carved with Royal perfection.
“There is no real reason why you should not make an Empress, dearest,” said her mother, in pride of the girl’s beauty, and desiring, womanlike, to promote her child’s happiness. “Stranger things have happened. Only last week, at Windsor, the dear Queen was saying what a pity poor Henri was not more – but no matter, he is well enough. However, if – And when one comes to think of it, it’s perhaps not unnatural that Leopold of Rhaetia has never been mentioned for you, although there could be nothing against the marriage. What a match for any woman! A supreme one. Not a Royal girl but would go on her knees to him, if – ”
“I wouldn’t,” said Virginia. “I might worship him, yet he should go on his knees to me.”
“I doubt if those proud knees of his will ever bend in homage to man or woman,” replied the Grand Duchess. “But that’s a mere fantasy. I’m serious now, darling, and I very much wish you would be.”
“Please, I’d rather not,” smiled Virginia, uneasily. “Let us not talk of the Emperor any more – and never again after this, Mother. You know now. That’s all that’s necessary, and – ”
“But it’s not all that’s necessary. You have put the idea into my head, and it’s not an unpleasing idea. Besides, it has evidently been in your head for a long time – and – I should like to see you happy – see you in a position such as you’re entitled to grace. You are a very beautiful girl (there’s no disguising that from you, as you know you are the image of your grandmother, who was a celebrated beauty) and the best blood in Europe runs in your veins. You are royal, and yet – and yet our circumstances are such that – in fact, for the present, we’re somewhat handicapped.”
“We’re beggars,” said Virginia, laughing; but it was not a happy laugh.
“Cophetua married the beggar maid,” the Grand Duchess reminded her, with elaborate playfulness. “And, you know, all sorts of things have happened in history – much stranger than any one would dare put in fiction, if writing of Royalties. My dear husband was second cousin once removed to the German Emperor, though he was treated – but we mustn’t speak of that. The subject always upsets me. What I was leading up to, is this; though there may be other girls who, from a worldly point of view, are more desirable; still, you’re strictly within the pale from which Leopold is entitled to choose his wife, and if – ”
“Dear little Mother, there’s no such ‘if.’ And as for me, I wasn’t thinking of a ‘worldly point of view.’ The Emperor of Rhaetia barely knows that I exist. And even if by some miracle he should suddenly discover that little Princess Virginia Mary Victoria Alexandra Hildegarde of Baumenburg-Drippe was the one suitable wife for him on earth, I wouldn’t have him want me because I was ‘suitable,’ but – because I was irresistible. I’d want his love – all his love – or I would say ‘no, you must look somewhere else for your Empress.’”
“But that’s nonsense, darling. Royal people seldom or never have the chance to fall in love,” said the Grand Duchess.
“I’m tired of being Royal,” snapped the Princess. “Being Royal does nothing but spoil all one’s fun, and oblige one to do stupid, boring things, which one hates.”
“Nevertheless, noblesse does oblige,” went on the Dresden china prophetess of conventionality. “When alliances are arranged for women of our position, we must content ourselves with the hope that love may come after marriage. Or if not, we must go on doing our duty in that state of life to which Heaven has graciously called us.”
“Bother duty!” broke out Virginia. “Thank goodness, in these days not all the king’s horses and all the king’s men can make even a Princess marry against her will. I hate that everlasting cant about ‘duty in marriage.’ When people love each other, they’re kind and good, and sweet and true, because it’s a joy, not because it’s a duty. And that’s the only sort of loyalty worth having between men and women, according to me. I wouldn’t accept anything else from a man; and I should despise him if he were less – or more – exacting.”
“Virginia, the way you express yourself is almost improper. I’m thankful that no one hears you except myself,” said the Grand Duchess. But at this moment, when clash of tongues and opinions seemed imminent, there occurred a happy diversion in the arrival of letters.
Virginia, who was a neglectful correspondent, had nothing; but two or three important looking envelopes claimed attention from the Grand Duchess, and as soon as the ladies were once more alone together in the sweet-scented garden, she broke the crown-stamped seal of her son Adalbert, now by adoption Crown Prince of Hungaria.
“Open the others for me, dear,” she demanded, excitedly, “while I see what Dal has to say.” And Virginia leisurely obeyed, wondering whether Dal’s news would by-and-by be passed on to her. It was always an event when a long letter came from him; and the Grand Duchess invariably laughed and exclaimed, and sometimes blushed as she read; but when she blushed, the letter was not given to the Crown Prince’s sister.
There was a note to-day from an old friend of her mother’s of whom Virginia was fond, and she had just begun to be interested in the third paragraph, all about an adorable Dandy Dinmont puppy, when an odd, half-stifled ejaculation from the Grand Duchess made the girl lift her eyes.
“Has Dal been having something beyond the common in the way of adventures?” she inquired dryly.
Her mother did not answer; but she had grown pink and then pale.
Virginia began to be uneasy. “What is the matter? Is anything wrong?” she asked.
“No – nothing in the least wrong. Far from it, indeed. But – oh, my child!”
“Mother dear, what is it?”
“Something
