The kingdom that was, an admixture of old France and newer
Austria, was a gateway which opened the road to the Orient, and
a gateman must be placed there who would be obedient to the will
of the great travelers, were they minded to pass that way. That
is to say, the confederation wanted a puppet, and in Leopold
they found a dreamer, which served as well. That glittering bait,
a crown, had lured him from his peaceful Osian hills and
valleys, and now he found that his crown was of straw and his
scepter a stick.

He longed to turn back, for his heart lay in a tomb close to his
castle keep, but the way back was closed. He had sold his
birthright. So he permitted his ministers to rule his kingdom
how they would, and gave himself up to dreams. He had been but a
cousin of the late king, whereas the duke of the duchy that is
had been a brother. But cousin Josef was possessed of red hair
and a temper which was redder still, and, moreover, a
superlative will, bending to none, and laughing at those who
tried to bend him.

He would have been a king to the tip of his fiery hair; and it
was for this very reason that his subsequent appeals for justice
and his rights fell on unheeding ears. The confederation feared
Josef; therefore they dispossessed him. Thus Leopold sat on the
throne, while his Highness bit his nails and swore, impotent to
all appearances.

Leopold leaned forward from his seat. In his hand he held a
riding stick with which he drew shapeless pictures in the yellow