the Royal Guard that he had so often laughed at in disdain? Could that
gay old gentleman in red and gold be the morbid, carelessly clad Duke of
Rapp-Thorberg, whom he had grown to despise because he seemed so
ridiculously unlike a real potentate? He marvelled and rejoiced as he
strolled hither and thither with the casual Baggs, and for the first
time in his life really felt that it was pleasant to be stared at--in
admiration, too, he may be pardoned for supposing.

He could not again approach within speaking distance of the
Princess--nor did he presume to make the effort. Chase knew his proper
place. It must be admitted, however, that he was never far distant from
her, but perhaps chance was responsible for that--chance and Baggs, who,
by nature, kept as close to royalty as the restrictions allowed.

She was the gayest, the most vivacious being in the whole assemblage;
she had but to stretch out her hand or project her smile and every man
in touch with the spell was ready to drop at her feet. At last, she led
her court off toward the pavilion under which the royal orchestra was
playing. As if it were a signal, every one turned his steps in that
direction. Chase and the Englishman had been conversing diligently with
an ancient countess and her two attractive daughters near the fountain.
The Countess gave the command in the middle of Chase's dissertation on
Italian cooking, and the party hastily fell in line with the throng
which hurried forward.

"What is it? Supper again?" whispered Baggs, lugubriously.

One of the young women, doubtless observing the look of curiosity in the
face of the American, volunteered the information that the orchestra was
to repeat the great number which had so stirred the musical world at the