Evening Star Newspaper, October 12, 1895, Page 15

THE EVENING STAR, SATURDAY, OCTOBER 12, 1895-TWENTY-FOUR PAGES, 15 THE VICTORY OF THE GRAND DUKE OF ITTENHEIA a BY ANTHONY HOPE, Author of “The Dolly by A. HT. Hawkins.) being in the worst of humors, had declared in the presence of all the court that women were born to plague men and for no other purpose whatsoever urder heaven. Hearing this discourteovs speech, the Princess Osra rose and said that, for her part, she would go walking alone by the river outside the city gates, where she would at least be assailed by no more reproaches. For since she was Ir ocubly determined to live and die unmar- ried, of at use or benefit was it to trou- ble her with embassies, courtings or pro- Is, either from the Grand Duke of enheim or a body else? She was ut- ly weary of this matter of love, and ner handsome as the god Apollo. She did not sire a husband, and there was an end of it. Thus she went out, while the queen sighed and the king fumed, and the cour- tiers and Iadies said to one another tiat these dissensions made life very uncom- fortable at Strelsau, the ladies further ad- He Drew Aside. @ing that he would be a bold man who married Osra, although doubtless she was net ill looking. To the vanks of the river outside the walls than Osra went; and as she went she seemed to be thinking of nothing at all in the world, least of all of whom she might chance to meet there on the banks of the river, where in those busy hours of the day few came. Yet there was a strange rew light in her eyes, and there seemed a new understanding in her mind; and when a young peasant wife came by, her baby in her arms, Osra stopped her, and kissed the child and gave money, and then ran on in unexplained confusion, laughing and blushing as though she had done something which she did not wish to be seen. Then without reason her eyes filled with tears, but she dashed them away, and burst sud- denly into singing. And she was still sing- ing when, from the long grass by the river's edge, a young man sprang up, and, with a very low bow, drew asile to let her pass. He had a book in his land, for he was a student at the university and came there to pursue his learning in peace: his plain brown clothes spoke of no wealth or station, though certainly they set off a staiwart straight shape and seemed to match well with his bright brown hair and hazel ey Very low this young man bowed, and Osra bent her head. The pace of her walk slackened, grew quicker, slack- ened again; she was past kim, and with a great sigh he lay down again. She turned, he sprang up; she spoke coldly, yet kindly. Si said she, “I cannot but notice that you lie every day here by the river, with your book, and that you sigh. ‘Tell me your trouble, and if I can I will relieve it. “ft am reading, madame,” he answered, “of Helen of Troy, and I am sighing be- cause she is dead.” “Kt is a id grief by now,” said Osra, smiling. “Will no one serve you but Helen of Troy?” “If I were a prince,’ said he, “I need Bot mourn No, sir? ‘No, madame,” he said, with another ewell, sir.”* “Madame, farewell.” nt on her way and saw him no * next day, nor after that till next day, nor after that till the next day fcllowirg; and then came an interval wher she saw him not, and the interval was no less than twenty-four hours; yet still he read of Helen of Troy, and still sighed that she was dead, -and he no prince. At last he tempted the longed-for question from her shy smiling lips. “Why would you not mourn, sir, {f you were a prince?’ said she. “For princes and princesses have their share of sighs.” And with a very plaintive sigh Osra looked at the rapid running river, as she waited for the answer. “Because I would then go to Strelsau, and se forget her. “But you are at Strelsau now!” she cried with won: ‘ful surprise. pct but Tam no prince, madame,” sata e. “Can princes alone—forget in Strelsau?” “Hew should a poor student dare to— forget in Strelsau?” And as he spoke he made bold to step near her end stood close, looking down into her face. Without a word she turned and left him, going with a Step that seemed to dance through tha meadow and yet led her to her own cham- ber, where ske could weep in quiet. “I know it no I know it nov whisper that rose by her window. am I to do? cannot die. Ah, me, wh: wish I were a peasant girl, but then pe haps he would not—Ah, yes, but he would! Anl her long laugh rippled in triumph through the night, and blended with the rustling of the leaves under a summer and she stretched her white arms aven, imploring the kind God with that she dared not speak even to tiful ear. she 1 softly that night to the tree “Heigh-ho, what i cannot live; no, and now I I t am I to do? my princess.”” s she fled from him ve rebuked him. staid; and to Yet she must re- » him again in or- all this while she the court of the tenheim! And when a day on which the the King flew into a nd declared that he would himself for it. Was his sister mad, he that she would do nothing but walk y by the river's bank? IT must be mad,” thought Osra, $i 1 ng could be at once so So piteously unhappy Know what it was he asked? He ow nothing of it. He did not f princesses, only of ve of his heart’: asked love, the undo and 1. He daughter sister of King was his qu yet dare y 1 to shut the © nothing but i that held none rand him, she could love, unblamed s that che he t day. She sho’ But for that she he not dared. > him. She mus uli net name y should con: passion Bel a ask he no ve wooed b and thas he w and with no trembling. forget who I am,” she faltered ty of the said to her: “Madame, in a week I return to my own country. She looked at him in silence with ifps just parted. For her life she could not speak; but the sun grew dark and the river changed its merry tune to mournful dirges. “So the dream ends,” said he, “So comes the awakening. But if life were all a dreai And his eyes sought hers. ~ “Yes,” she whispered, “if life were all a dream, sir?” “Then I should dream of two dreamers whose dream was one and in that dream I should see them ride together at break of day from Strelsau.” “Whither?” she murmur: ‘o Paradise,” said he. “But the dream ends. If it did not end—” He paused. “If it did not end?” a breathless, longing sper echoet. it did not end now, it should not end even with death,” said he. You see them in your dream? You see tly, side by side, they two alone, through the morning. None is near, none knows.” He seemed to be searching her face for ething that he scarcely hoped to find. ‘And their dream,” said he, “brings them at last to a smail cottage, and theze they ive—” they live?” “And work,” he added. his home while he works.” “What does she do?” asked Osra, with smiling, wondering eye: “She gets his food for comes home weary in the evening, makes a bright fire, and—” “Ah, and she runs to meet him at the door—Oh, further than the door!” “But she has worked hard and is weary.”” si “For she keeps him when he ana “No, she is not weary,” cried Osra, “It is for him.”” “The wise say this is silly talk,” said he. “The wise are fools, then.” cried Osra. “So the dream would please you, mad- ame?” he asked. She had come not to know how she left him; somehow, while he still spoke, she would suddenly escape by flight. He did not pursue, but let her go. So now she re- turned to the city, her eyes filled with that golden dream, and she entered her home as though it had been some strange palace decked with new magnificence, and she an alien in it. For her true home seemed now rather in the cottage of the dream, and ske moved unfamiliarly through the pomp that had been hers from birth. Her soul was gone from it, while her body rested there; and life stopped for her till she saw him again by the banks of the river. “In five days now I go,” said he; and he smiled at her. She hid her face in her hands. Still he smiled; but suddenly he sprang forward, for she had sobbed. The summons had sounded; he was there; and who could seb again when he was there an his sheltering arm warded away all grief? She looked up at him with shining eyes, whispering: “Do you go alone?” A great joy blazed confidently in his eyes as he whispered in answer: “I think 1 shall not go alone.”” “But how, how?” have two horses.”” ‘ou! You have two horses?” es. Is it not riches? But we will sell them when we get to the cot! “To the cottage! Two hors: “I would I had but one gor b “ut we should not go quick enough.” He tock his hand from her stood away from her. “You will not come?” he sald. “If you doubt of my coming, I will not come. Ah, do not doubt of my coming. For there is a great hoard of fears and, black thoughts beating at the door and you must not open it.” “And what can keep it shut, my prin- cess?” “I think your arm, my prince,” said she; and she flew to him. That evening King Rudolf swore that if a man were only firm enough and kept his temper (which, by the way, the king had not done, though nono dared say so), ne could bring any foolish girl to reason in good time. For in the softest voice and with the strangest smile flitting to her face, the Princess Osra was pleased to bid the embassy come on the fifth day from then. ‘And they shall have their answer then, sald she, flushing and smiling. “Tt is as much as any ludy could say,” the court declared; and it was reported through all Strelsau that the match was as good as made, and that Osra was to be Grand Duchess of Mittenheim. “She is a sensible girl after all,” cried Rudolf, all his anger gone. ‘The dream began then, before they came to the cottage. Those days she lived in its golden mists, that shut out all the cold world from her, moving through space that held but one form, and time had stood still waiting for one divine unending moment. And the embassy drew near to Strelsau. It was night, the dead of night, and all was still in the palace. But the’ sentinel by the ttle gate was at his post, and the gate warden stood by the western gate of the city. Each was now alone, but to each, an hour ago, a man had come, stealthily and silently through the darkness, and each was richer by a bag of gold than he had been before. The gold was Osra’s—how should a poor student, whose whole fortune was two horses, scatter bags of gold? And other gold Osra had, aye, 500 crowns. Would not that be a brave surprise for the poor student? And she, atone of all awake, stocd looking round her room, entranced with the last aspect of It. Over the city also she looked, but in the selfishness of her Joy did no more than kiss a hasty farewell to the good city folk who loved her. Once she thought that may be some day he and she would stea’ together back to Strelsau, and, sheltered by some disguise, watch the king ride in splendor through the streets. But ff ngt—why, what was Strel- sau and the people, and the rest? Ah, how Icng the hours were, before those two horses stood by the little gate, and the sen- try and the gate warden earned their bags ot gold? So she passed the hours, the last long lingering hours. There was a little tavern buried in the rarrowest, oldest street of the city. Here the poor student had lodged; here in the back room a man sat at a table, and two others stood before him. These two seemed gentlemen, and their air spoke of military training. They stroked long mustaches and smiled with an amusement that deference could not hide. Both were booted and wore spurs, and the man sitting at the table gave them orders. “You will meet the embassy,” he ‘said to one, “about 10 o'clock. Bring it to the place I have appointed, and wait there. Dp not fail.” The officer addressed bowed and retired. A minute later his horse's hoofs clattered waist and The Officer Bowed and Retired. through the stre Perhaps he also had a bag of gold, for the gate warden opened the western gate for him, and he rode at a gallop along the river banks, till he reached the great woods that stretched to within ten miles of Strelsau. “Ai hour after we are me,” said the g man at the table to the other officer, “go find one of the king’s servants and no ri give him the letter. how you came by it, who ye >. All that is the letter. When you hay account of nothing of y is in given It, return here and remain rlose hiding, till you hear from J The second offi d. The man at the t out into the street. He t is way to where the palace rose, and alon to tb ad till he came two hor: 1 of its gard: , for he lau Then he als were long; and on him that she wor these last hou and she not t to e them away. Would at trial Would she e last? But not th ain, Ww! « it of her, and he was hen the clock of the cathe- d from him. acess would come to him, the student, led by the vision of that cottage in the dream. Would she come? She would come; she had risen from her knees and moved to and fro, in cautious silence, making her last preparations. She had written a word of love for the brother she loved—for some day, of course, Rudolf would forgive her— and she had ready all that she took with her, the five hundred crowns, one ring that she would give her lover, some clothes to serve till his loving labor furnished more. That night she had wept, and she had laug! ed; but now she neither wept nor laughed; but there was a great pride in her face and gait. And she opened the door of her room and walked down the great staircase, under the eyes of crowned kings who hung framed upen the walls. And as she went she seem- ed indeed their daughter. For her head was erect and her eye set firm in haughty dignity. Who dared to say that she did any- thing that a king’s daughter should not do? Should not a woman love? Love should be her diadem. And so with this proud step she came through the gardens of the palace, looking neither to right nor left, nor te- hind, but with her face set straight for the little gate; and she walked as she had been accustomed to walk, wken all Strelsau look- ed on her and hailed her as its glory and its darling. The sentry slept, or seemed to sleep. Her face was not even veiled when she opened the little gate; she would not veil her proud face; it was his to look on now when he would; and thus she stood for an instant in the gateway, while he sprang to her, and, kneeling, carried her hand to his lips. “You are come?” he cried, for though he had believed, yet he wondered. “I am come?” she smiled. “Is not the word of a princess sure? Ah, how could I net come?” “See, love,” said he, rising, “day dawns in royal purple for you, and golden love for me. ‘The purple is for my king and the love for me,” she whispered, as he led her to her horse. “Your fortune £1 she,pointing to them. “But I also have brought a dowry fancy, 500 crowns!” and her mirth and happiness burst out in a laugh. It was so deliciously little—300 crowns! none Was mounted now, and he stood hy her. “Will you turn back?” he said. You shall not make me angry,” said she. “Come, mount.”” “Aye, I must mount,” said he. “For if we were found here the king would kill me.” For the first time the peril of thejr en- terprise seemed to strike into her mind and turned her cheek pale. “Ah, I forgot! In my happiness I forgot. Mount, mount! Oh, if he found you!”* He mounted. Once they clasped hands; then they rode swiftly for the western gate. “Veil your face,” he said, and since he bade her, she obeyed, saying: “But [can see you through the vell.’ The gate stood open, and the gage-warden was not there. They were out of the city, the morning air blew cold and pure from the meadows from the river. The horses stretched into an eager gallop. And Osra tore her veil from her face and turned on him eyes of radiant triumph. It is done,” she cried, “it is done. ‘Yes, it is done, my princess,” said he. “And—and it is begun, my prince,” she. “Yes, and it is begun,” said he. She laughed aloud in absolute joy, and for a moment he also laughed. But then his face grew grave, and he said: “I pray you may never grieve for it.” She looked at him with eyes wide in w der; for an instant she seemed puzzled; bu then she fell again to laughing. “Grieve for it!” said she, merry laughs. King Rudolf was a man who lay late in the morning, and he was not well pleased to be roused when the clock had but just struck four. Yet he sat up in his ved, readily enough, for he imagined that the embassy from the grand duke of Mitten- heim must be nearer than he had thought, and, sooner than fail in ary courtesy toward the prince, whose alliance he ar- dently desired, he was ready to submit to much inconvenience. But his astonish- ment was great, when, instead of any tid- ings from the embassy, one of his gentle- men handed him a letter, saying that a servant had received it from a stranger with instructions to carry it at once to the king; when asked if any answer was de- sired from his majesty, the stranger had answered, “Not through me,” and at once turned away and quickly disappeared. The king, with a peevish oath at having be:n | between her roused for such a trifle, broke the seal and fastenings of the letter and opened it, and he read “Sire—Your sister does not wait for the embassy, but chooses her own lover; she has met'a student of the university every day for the last three weeks by the river bank.” (The king started.) “This morning she has fled with him on horseback along the western road. If you desire a student for a brother-in-law, sieep again; If not, up and ride. Do not doubt these tidin: There was no signature to the letter; yet the king, knowing his sister, cried: “See whether ¢he princess {sin the pal- ace. And, in the meanwhile, saddle my horse, and let a dozen of the guard te at the gate.” ‘The princess was not in the palace, but her woman found the letter that she iad left and brought it to the king. And the king read: “Brother, whom I love best of all men in the world save one. You will not forgive me now, but some day forgive me. Nay, it is not I who have done it, but my love, which is braver than I. He is the sweetest gentleman alive, brother, and therefore he must be my lord. Let me go, but still love me. Osra.” “It is true,” said the king. “And the embassy will be here today.’ And for a moment he seemed dazed. Yet he spoke nothing to anybody of what the letters contained, but sent word to the queen’s apartments that he went riding for pleas- ure. And he took his sword and his pis- tols; for he swore that by his own hand and that of no other man this sweetest gentleman alive should meet his death. But all, knowing that the princess was not in the palace, guessed that the king's sudden haste concerned her; and great wonder and speculation rose in the palace, and presently, as the mornin spread from the palace to its en from the environs to the rest of city. For it was reported that a sen- tinel that had stood guard that night was missing, and that a mysterious letter had come by an unknown band to the king, and lastly, the Princess Osra— their princess—was gone, whether by her own will or by some bold plot of seizure and kidnaping, none knew. Thus a great stir grew in all Strelsau, and men stood about the streets gossiping when they should have gone to work, while women chattered’in lieu of sweeping their houses and dressing their children. So that when the king rode out of the court yard of the palace at a gallop, with twelve of the guard behind him, he could hardly make his way through the streets, for the peo- ple who crowded round him, imploring him to tell them where the princess was. When the king saw that the matter had thus become public, his wrath was greater still, and he swore again that the student of the university should pay the price of life for his morning ride with the prince And when he darted through the gate and set his horse straiznt clong the western road, many of the veople, neglecting all their business as folk will for cxeitement’s sake, followed him as best tney could, egog to se end. The hors. weary,” said the student to the princ ve must let them rest; we are now in the shelter of the woo my brother may pursue you,” she urged; “and if he came up with you—ah, heaven forbid!” “He will not know you another three xours,” smiled he. is a green bank where we can res So he aided her to dismount; then, saying he would tether the horses, he led them away some distance, so that she could rfot see where he hed posted them; and he re- turned to her, smiling still. Then he took from his pocket some bread, and, breaking the loaf in two, gave her ene half, s “There ts a spring just here; £o have a good breakfast.” “Is this your breakfast?” she asked with a wondering laugh, Then ske began to eat, and cried di How delicious ave nothing else for breakfa this the student laughed. Yet Osra ate little of the bread she liked so well; and presently she leaned against ber lover's shoulder, and he put his arm around her; and they sat for a little while in silence listening to the soft sounds that filled the waking woods as day grew to fullness and the sun beat warm through the sheltering foliage. “Don’t you hear the trees?” Osra whis- pered to her lover. “Don’t you hear them? They are whispering for me what I dare per. fs it they whisper, sweet?” he asked; and Fe himself did no more than whisper. “The trees whisper, ‘Love, love, love!’ And the wind—don't you hear the wind murmuring, ‘Love, love, love?” and the birds sing, ‘Love, love, lo ‘Aye, all the world today is softly whispering, ‘Love, love, love!’ What elise should the great world whisper but my love? For my love is greater than the worl And she se- curely hid her face in her hands; and he > the thing to its Sa have gone for “And here this bread :; I would and at Ey could kiss no more that{ her hands; though her eyes gleamed at him from between slim white fingers. But suddenly her hands dropped and she leaned forward as though she listened. “What is that soun@¥’ she asked, ap- prehension dawning in her eyes. “Tt is but another whifper, love!” said he. “Nay, but it sounds e Mke—ah, like the roise of horses galloping.” “It is but the stream, beating over stones.”” ry “Listen, listen, listen!’ she cried, spring- ing to her feet. “They are horses’ hoofs. Ah, merciful God, it is the king!” And she caught him by the hand and pulled him to his feet, looking at him with a face pale and alarmed. “Not the king,” said he, “he would not know yet. It is some ofeselse. Hide your face, dear lady, and all will be well.” “It is the king,” she.cried. “Hark how they gallop on the road! It is my brother. Love, he will kill you, love, he will kill you, love, he will kill you.” “If it is the king,” said he, “I have been betrayed.” “The horses, the horses “By your love for me, the horses He nodded his head, and, turning, disap- reared among the trees. She stood with clasped hands, heaving breast and fearful eyes, awaiting his return. Minutes passed and he came not. She flung herself on her krees, beseeching heaven for his life. At last he came along alone, and he bent over her, taking her hand. “My love,” said he, “tt “Gone!” she cried, gripping his hand. “Aye. This love, my love, is a wonderful thing. For I forgot to tie them, and they are gone. Yet what matter? For the king —yes, sweet, I think now it is, the king— will not be here fcr some minutes yet, and those minutes I have still for love and life.” “He will kill you,” she said. “Yes,” said he. She looked long fm his eyes; then she threw her arms about his neck, and, for the first time unasked, covered his face with kisses. “Kiss me, kiss me,” said she; and he kissed her.’ Then she drew back a little, but took his arm and set it round her waist. And she drew a little knife from her girdle, and showed it him. “If the king will not pardon us and let us love one another, I also will die,” said she; é cried. ‘the horses are gone.”” and her voice was quiet and happy. “‘In- deed, my love, I should not grieve. Ah, do not tell me to live without you! “Would you obey?” he asked. “Not in that,” said she. And thus they stood silent, while the sound of the hoofs drew very near. But she looked up at him and he looked at her; then she looked at the point of the little dagger, and she whispered: “Keep your arm rcund me till I die.” He bent his head and kissed her once again, saying: “My princess, it is enoug’ And she, though she did not know why he smiled, yet smiled back at him. For, al- though life was sweet that day, yet such a death, with him and to prove her love for him, seemed well nigh as sweet. And thus they awaited the coming of the king. King Rudolf and his guards far out- stripped the people who pursued them from the city, and when they came to the skirts of the wood, they divided themselv: into four parties, since, if they went all to- gether, they might easily miss the fugi- tives whom they sought. Of these four parties, one found notFing, another found the two horses which the student himself, who had hidden them, failed to find; the third party had not gone far before they caught sight of the lovers, though the lov- ers did not see them; and two of them re- mained to watch, and, if need be, to inter- cept any attempted flight, while the third rode off to find the king and bring him where Os-a and the student were, as he had commanded. But the fourth party, with which the king was, though it did not find the fugi- tives, found the embassy from the Grand Duke of Mittenheim; and the ambassador, with all his train, was resting by the road- side, seeming in no haste at all to reach Strelsau. When the king suddenly rode up at great speed and came upon the embassy an officer that stood by the ambassador, whose name was Count Sergius of An- theim, stooped down and whispered in his excellency’s ear, upon which he rose and advanced toward the king, uncovered his head and bowing profoundly; for he chose to assume that the king had ridden to meet him out of excessive graciousness and courtesy toward the grand duke; so that he began, to the impatient king’s infinite an- noyance, to make a very long and stately speech, assuring his majesty of the great hope and joy with which his master await- ed the result of the embassy, for, said he, since the king was so zealous in his cause, his master could not bring himself to doubt of success, and, therefore, most confidently looked to win for his bride the most exalt- ed ard lovely lady in the world, the peer- less Princess Osra, the glory of the court of Strelsau, and the brightest jewel in the crown of the king, her brother. And h ing brought this period to a prosperous conclusion, Count Sergius took breath and began another that promised to be fully as magnificent and not a whit less long. So that, before it was well started, the king smote his land on his thigh and roared: “Heavens, man, while you're making es that rascal is carrying off my Count Sergius, who was an elderly man, of handsome presence and gieat dignity, being thus rudely and strangely interrupt- ed, showed great astonishment and of- fense; but the officer by him covered his mouth with Fis hand to hide a smile. For the moment that the king had spoken these impetuous words he was himself over- whelmed with confusion; for the last thing that he wished the grand duke’s ambassa- dor to know was that the princess, whom his master courted, had run away that morning with a student of the University of Strelsau. Accordingly he began, very hastily and with more regard for prudence thar for truth, to tell Count Sergius how a noted and bold criminal had that morning swooped down on the princess as she rode unattended outside the city and carried her off; which seemed to the ambassador a very strange story. But the king told it with great fervor, and he besought the count to scatter his attendants al! through the wood and seek the robher; yet he charged them not to kill the man them- selves, but to keep him till he came. “For I have sworn to kill hinr with my own hand,” he cried. a Now, Count Sergius, however much as- tonished he might be, couldsdo nothing but accede to the king’s request, and he sent off all his men to scour the woods, and, mounting his horse, himself set off with them, showing great zeal_jn the king’s serv- ice, but still thinking ing’s story a very strange one. Thu: king was left alone with his two guard#and with the officer who had smiled: ™ 4 “Will you not go also,jsir?” asked the king. But at this moment a man galloped up at ‘a furious speed, cryin: “We have found them, sir, we have found them!” é “Then he hasn't five’ minutes to live!’ cried the king in fierce joy, and he lugged out his sword, adding, “The moment I set my eyes on him I will kill him. There is no need for words between me and him.” At this speech the face. of the officer grew suddenly grave and alarmed; and he put spurs to his horse and hastened after the king, who had at.once dashed away in the direction in which the man had pointed, but the king had got a start and kept it, so that the officer seemed terribly fright- ened, and muttered to him “Heaven send that he does not kill him before he knows!” And he added some very impatient word the fol- 1 s of princes and above all of frinces in ove. ! | Thus while the ambassador and his men searched high and low for the noted rob- ber, and the king’s men hunted for the student of the university, the king, fol- lowed by two of his guard at a distance of about fifty yards (for his horse was better than theirs), came straight to where Osra and her lover stood together! and a few yards behind the guards came the officer; and he also had by now drawn his sword. But he rode so eagerly that he overtook and passed the King’s guards, and got within thirty yards of the king by the time that the king was within twenty yards of the lovers. But the king let him get no nearer, for he put his spurs again into his horse’s side,and the horse bounded forward, while the king cried furiously to his sister, “Stand away from him!” The princess did not heed, but stood in front of her lover (for the student was wholly unarmed) holding up the little dagger in her hand. The king laughed scornfully and angrily, thinking ‘that Osra menaced him with the weapon and not supposing that it was} herself for whom she destined it. And, having reached them, the King leapt from | his horse and ran at them, with his sword raised to strike. Osra gave a cry of ter- ror. “Mercy!” she cried. ‘Mercy!’ But the king had no thought of mercy, and he would certainly then and there have killed her lover had not the officer, gaining a mo- ment’s time by the King’s dismounting, at this very instant come galloping up; and, there being no time for any explanation, he leant from his saddle and dashed ‘Ly, and, putting out his hand, snatchcd the king’s sword away from him just as the king was about to thrust it through iis sister’s lover. But the officer's horse was going so furi- ously that he could not stop it for hard on forty yards, and he narrowly escaped split- ting his head against a great bough that hung low across the grassy path: and he dropped first his own sword and then the King’s; but at last he brought the horse to a standstill, and, leaping down, ran back toward where the swords lay. But at the moment the king also ran toward them, for the fury that he had been in hefore was 98 nothing to that which now-possessed him. After his sword was snatched from him he stood in speechless anger for a full minute, but then he had turned to pursue the man who had dared to treat him with such in- sult; and now, in his desire to be at the of- ficer, he had come very near to forgetting the student. Just as the oificer came to where the king’s sword lay, and picked it up, the king, in his turn, reached the offi- cer’s sword and picked up that. ‘The king came with a rush at the officer, who, seeing that the king was likely to kill him or he the king, if he stood his ground, turned tail and sped away at the top of his specd through the forest; but as he went, thinking that the time had come for plain speaking, he looked back over his shoulder and shotited: ‘Sire, it’s the grand duke himsel The king stopped short in sudden amaze- ment. “Is the man mad? “Who is the grand duke?" “It's the grand duke, sire, who is with the prmcess, and you would have killed him if I had not snatehed your sword,” said the officer, 2nd he also came to a halt, but he kept a very wary eye on King Ru- dolf. “{ should certainly have killed him, him be who he will,” said the king. “But why do you i him the grand duke?” ‘The officer very cautiously approached the king, and, seeing that the king made no threatening motion, he at last trusted him- self so close that he could speak to the king in a very low voice, and what he said seemed to astonish, please and amuse the king immensely. For he clapped the officer on the back, laughed heartily, and eried: “A pretty trick! On my life, a pretty trick.” Now Osra and her lover had not heard what the officer had shouted to the king, and when Osra saw her brother returning from among the trees alone and with his ” he asked. sword, she still supposed that her lover must die; and she turned and flung her arms around his neck and clung to him for a moment, kissing him. Then she faced the king, with a smile on her face and the little dagger in her hand. But the king came up, wearing a rnful smile, and he asked her: “What is the dagger for, my willful sis- ter?” “For me, if you kill him,” said she. “You would kill yourself, then, if I killed him “I would not live a moment after he was it is wonderful!” said the king with a shrug. ‘Then, plainly, if you can- net live without him you must live with him. He is to be your husband, not mine. Therefore, take him if you will.”” When Osra heard this, which, indeed, for joy and wonder she could hardly believe, she dropped her knife and, running for- ward, fell on her knees before her brother and, catching his hand, she covered it with kisses, and her tears mingled with her kisses. But the king let her go on, and stood over her, laughing and looking at the student. Presently the student be- gan to laugh also, and he had just ad- vanced a step toward King Rudolf, when Count Sergius of Antheim, the grand duke’s ambassador, came out from among the trees, riding hotiy and with great zeal after the noted robber. But no sooner did the count see the student than he stopped his horse, leapt down with a cry of won- der, and running up to the student, bowed very low and kissed his hand. So that when Osra looked arcund from her kissing of her brother's hand, she beheld the grand duke’s amb ‘ador kissing the hand of her lover. She sprang to her feet in wonder. Who are you?” she cried to the student, inning in between him and the ambassa- do: Your lover and <ervan' “And besides?” she said. “Why, in a month, your husband,” laugh- ed the King, taking her lover by the hand. He clasped the king’s hand, but turned at once ty her, and said, humbly: ‘Alas, 1 have ro cottage!” Who are you?” she whispered to him. “The man for whom you were ready to my pr 1s it not enough Yes, it enough,” id she, and she did not repeat-her question. But the king, with a short laugh, turned on his heel, and took Count Sergius by the arm and walked cff with him; and presently they met the oflicer and learnt fuliy how the grand duke had come to Strelsau and how he had contrived to woo and win the Pri cess Osra, and finally to carry her off from the palace. It was an hour later when the whole of the two companies, that of the king and that of the ambassador, were all gathered together again, and had heard the story; so that when the king went to where Osra and the grand duke walked together among the trees, and, taking each by a hand, led them out, they were greeted with a great cheer, and they mounted their horses, which the grand duke row found withont any difficulty, although when the need of them seemed far greater the student could not contrive to come upon them, and the whole company rode together out of the wood and along the road towards Streisau, the king being full of jokes and hugely de- lighted with a trick that suited his merry fancy. But before they hed ridden far, they met the great crowd which had come out from Strelsau to learn what had hap- pened to the Princess Osra. And the king cried out that the grand duke was to marry the princess, while his guards who had been with him, and the ambassador's peo- ple spread themselves among the crowd and told the story; and when they heard it, the Strelsau folk were nearly beside them- selves with amusement and delight, and thronged round Osia, kissing her hands and blessing her. But the king drew baci and let her and the grand duke ride alon together, while he followed with Coun Sergius. Thus, moving at a very slow they came in the forencon to Streisau; but someone had galloped on ahead with the news, and the cathedral bells had been set ringing, the streets were full, and the whole city given over to excitement and rejoic- ing. All the men were that day in love with Princess Osra, and, what is more, they told their sweethearts so; and these found no other revenge than to blow kisses and fling flowers at the grand duke as he rode past with Osra by his side. Thus they came back to the palace enee they had fled in the early gleams oi that mo-ning’ light. ”’ said he. di let | It was evening and the moon rose fair and clear over Strelsau. In the streets there were sounds of ‘merriment and re- joicing; for every house was bright with light, and the king had sent out meat and wine for every soul in the city that none might be sad or hungry or thirsty in all the clty that night; so that there was no small uproar. The king himself sat in his armchair, toasting the bride and bride- groom in company with Count Sergius of Antheim, whose dignity, somewhat wound- ed by the trick his master had played upon him, was healing graciously under the balm ef King Rudolf’s graciousness. And the king said to Count Sergius: ‘My lord, were you ever in love?” I was, sire,” said the count. “So was I,” said the king. “Was it with the countess, my lord?” Count Sergius’ eyes twinkled demurely; but he answered: “I take it, sire, that it must have been with the count “And I take it.” said the king, “that it | must have been with the queen.’ Then they both laughed; and then they both sighed; and the king, touching the count’s elbow, pointed out to the terrace Ouae of His GenMlemen Handed Him a Letter. of the palace, on to which the room where they were opened. For Princess Osra and her lover were walking up and down to- gether on this terrace. And the two shrugged their shoulders smiling. “With him,” remarked the king, it will have been with—” “The countess, sire,” discreetly interrupt- ed Count Sergitis of Anthoi “Why, yes, the counte: a laugh, they * said the king, turned back to their wine. Lut the two on the terrace also talked. ‘I do not unéerstand it,” said Princess Orra. “For on the first day I loved you, d on the second I loved you, and on the third and the fourth, and every day I loved ycu. Yet the first day was not like the sec- ond, nor the second like the third, nor any day like any other. And today, again, is unlike them all. Is love so various ard full oi changes?” “Is it not?” he asked with a smile. “For while you were with the queen, talking of I krow not what——' “Nor I, indeed,” said Osra hastily. “I was with the king, and he, sayjng that forewarned was forearmed, told me very strange and pretty stories; of some a report had reached me before—' ‘And yet you came to Strelsau While of others I had not heard. ‘Or you weuld not have come to Strel- sau?” The grand duke, not heeding these ques- tions, proceeded to his conclusion: “Love therefore,” said he,"is very various. For M. de Meresailles “These are old stories, cried Osra, pre- tending to stop her ears. “Loved in one way, and Stephen the smith in another, ard—the milier of Hof- bau in a third.” “I think,” said Osra, “that I have forgot- ten the miller of Hofbau. But can one heart love in many different ways? I know that different men love difierently.” ‘But cannot one heart love in different vays?” he smiled. May be,” said O: thoughtfully, “one heart can have love But then she sud- deply looked up at him with a mischievo sparkle in her eyes. “No, no,” she cried, “dt was not lov It was—” “What was it?” “The courtiers entertained me till the kirg came,” she said with a blushing ugh. And looking up at him again she whispered. “Yet I am glad that you lin- gered for a little.” At this moment she saw the king come out on the terrace; and with him was ihe Pishop of Modenstein; and after the bishop had been presented to the grand duke, the king began to talk with the grand duke, while the bishop kissed Osra’s hand and wished her joy adame,” said he, “once you asked me if I could make you understand what love I take it you have no need for my ms now. Your teacher has come.” Yes, he has come,” she said gent look- ing on the bishop with great friendlines: ‘But tell me, will he always love me ‘Surely he will,” answered the bishop. ‘And tell me,” said Osra, “shall I always love him?” “Surely,” said the bishop again most courteously. “Yet, indeed, madame,” he con- tinued, “it wouid seem almost enough to ask of heaven to love now and now to be loved. For the years roll on, and youth goes, and even the most incomparable beau- ty will yield its blossoms when the season wanes; yet that sweet memory may ever be fresh and young, a thing a man can car- ry to his grave and raise as her best monu- ment on his lady's tomb.” 2 “Ah, you speak well of love,” said she. “I marvel that you speak so well of love. For it is as you say; and today in the wood it seemed to me that I had lived enough, and that even death was but love's ser- vant as life is, both purposed solely for his better ornament.” “Men have died because they loved you, madame, and some yet live who love you, said the bishop. “And shall I grieve for both, my lord—or yr which?” toror neither, madame, for the dead have gained peace, and they who live have es- caped forgetfuln “But would they not be happier for for- ng?” eetI do not think so,” said the bishop, and, bowing low to her again, he stood back, for he saw the king approaching with the grand duke, and the king took him by the arm and walked on with him, but Osra’s face dost the brief pensiveness that had come upon it as she talked with the bishop, an turning to her lover, she stretched out her hands to him, say: I wish there was a eottace, and that you worked for bread, while 1 made ready for you at the cottage, and then ran far, far, far, down the road to wateh and wait for your coming.” “Since a cottage was palace will not be too larg: rin his arms. the heart of Princess Osra found its and its rest, for a month later she s Married to the grand of Mi heim in the Cathedral of si utterly refused to tak her wedding. And a) ther through the west d the king rode with him on they came to the woods. paused and all the crowd that accompanie him stopped also, and they all wait aber depths of the glades hid Os lover from their sight. Then, lea ng them thus riding together to their hap- the people returned home, sad for of their darling princess. But, for olation and that their minds might le: they had her name oft lips, and the poets sed very many sto: ded on fact, as are those which hi here set forth, but the fabric of nings, wrought to please the fancy of or to wake the memories of older So that, if a stranger to sau, he may to him that all ma th Princess O seaeas t too small, a ‘d he, catch- | en on | and story tellers s about her, not > virtu jove be himself? from whom he calls hi ne of ti r heart had tell all the and go, t would p ters? 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Wear your willow, then, as the Marquis de Merosailles wore his—lightly and yet most courteously—or wear it as some say the Bishop of Modenstein wore one, with courage and self-mastery. That is, If Wear it you must. You remember what the miller of Hofbau thought? ——_.>___ SHE WANTED TO SEE IT. A Child’s Amuxing Idea of W' Birthday Is. From the Chicago Post. She is a little mixed on the subject of birthdays. In a general way she realizes that a birthday is a handy thing to have arouhd the house, but that is as far as she has reasoned it out. Her third birthday arrived on schedule time Thursday, and she was duly apprised of the fact that it was coming by her two elder brothers. They told her abeut it a week or two be- borehand. They also speculated a good deal as to what she would receive, and perhaps it was excusable for ner to become somewhat bewildered. “Ith I goin’ to have a bf’thday? asked her mother when first told of it. “Yes, dear,” was the reply. “When?” “Next Thursday.” Her brothers continucd dilating on the beauties of birthdays, and she continued making inquiries about hers until the day came. Early that morning she raised herself up in her little bed and asked anxiously: Mamma, kath my bi’thday comed?” yes, dear,” replicd her mother. The little one looked around the rcom ex- pectantly. “Well, where ith it?” she asked. It took her mother the entire Gay to ex- plain to her satisfaction what a birthday is, and even then she rather clung to the idea that the doll she received as a present was really a “bi'thday.” +o+—___ she Training Bees as Letter Carriers, From the Westminster Gazette. An apiculturist has commenced training bees for letter carrying purposes. After a few preliminary trials, he says, he took a hive of them to the house of a friend four miles distant. After some days, when the bees had become familiar with their new surroundings, some of them were liberated in a room, where they soon settled on a plate of honey which had been specially prepared for them, While they were busy n iner placed on their backs the tiniest of dispatches, fastened with the thinnest of thread, and so arranged them as to leave the head and wings absolutely free. They v.ere then thrown into the air, and scon arrived at their own home with the letters on their backs. The writing was magnified and quite legible. Here, then, is an opening fcr a new industry. In time of war bees would have the advantage-over pigeons of invisibility, and might go through the enemy’s lines with impunity. cee “Praise be to the-Lord! I’ve got rid of that counterfeit coin what's been a- troublin’ my conscience fer the last four months,”” “Gol darn his old hid shovin’ the queer on me. ‘son, I'l give ve a swapped both Lite.