The Chancellor slept. In the royal dressing-room behind the box
a lady in waiting was sitting and crocheting. She did not care
for opera. A maid was spreading the royal ladies' wraps before
the fire. The princesses had shed their furred carriage boots
just inside the door. They were in a row, very small and dainty.

Prince Ferdinand William Otto picked up his hat and concealed it
by his side. Then nonchalantly, as if to stretch his legs by
walking ten feet up the corridor and back, he passed the
dressing-room door. Another moment, and he was out of sight
around a bend of the passageway, and before him lay liberty.

Not quite! At the top of the private staircase reserved for the
royal family a guard commonly stood. He had moved a few feet
from his post, however, and was watching the stage through the
half-open door of a private loge. His rifle, with its fixed
bayonet, leaned against the stair-rail.

Prince Ferdinand William Otto passed behind him with outward
calmness. At the top of the public staircase, however, he
hesitated. Here, everywhere, were brass-buttoned officials of
the Opera House. A garderobe woman stared at him curiously.
There was a noise from the house, too, - a sound of clapping
hands and "bravos." The little Prince looked at the woman with
appeal in his eyes. Then, with his heart thumping, he ran past
her, down the white marble staircase, to where the great doors
promised liberty.

Olga, the wardrobe woman, came out from behind her counter, and
stood looking down the marble staircase after the small flying