are past."

"There, my Lord Duke, you see everything is as it should be. If you will
give me that stupid telegram, I will make some quiet inquiries about it.
Meanwhile, the less said the better. I will see the American Ambassador
and convince him of his error. And now I must make what excuses I can to
the Princess for my desertion of her."

Placing the telegram in his pocket, he hurried down the stair and out to
the street. There had been some delay about the coming of the carriage,
and he saw the lady he sought, at that moment entering it.

"Home at once as fast as you can," he heard her say to the coachman. She
had evidently no intention of waiting for him. He sprang forward, thrust
his arm through the carriage window, and grasped her hand.

"Princess," he cried, "you will not leave me like this. I must see you
to-morrow."

"No, no," she gasped, shrinking into the corner of the carriage.

"You cannot be so cruel. Tell me at least where a letter will reach you.
I shall not release your hand until you promise."

With a quick movement the girl turned back the gauntlet of her long
glove; the next instant the carriage was rattling down the street, while
a chagrined young man stood alone on the kerb with a long, slender white
glove in his hand.

"By Jove!" he said at last, as he folded it carefully and placed it