Evening star. [volume] (Washington, D.C.) 1854-1972, 1903-05-22

der that you who know him can do him
such injustice. He has gone to Novodnia
to lend all his skill and strength to seating
Prince Karl firmly once more upon his
throne, and you beside him. and doing this
he means to lose his own life. He will not
II he can avoid it, come out of the war
alive. And L tolL her how Denis had
begged the prince to let him go, and told
her what he had said to on the plat
form at the station how his last words
had been to urge to watch over her
Nay, L went further, angered beyond re-
straint at her speech. / told her how he
had labored and grown white and ill during
That week of her imprisonment and of
how he had planned the attack upon the
impasse du Maine and borne the fiercest
of the fighting. 1 went back further ana
told her what l knew of his struggles with
temptation, with himself, when he had used
to see her daily in the garden, how he had
to fight stern battle to play his part with
honor how easy it would have been for him
to carry her off and defy all, but how
he would not do 1t. l told her how he had
loathed the deceit he had to practice, how
both Won Altdorf and had seen him tight
ing this battle alone after he had come
from her. l told her something of how he
had given up abSinthe and what ii had cost
him, and of what l had found late one
night when l came in from my chance In
terview with Steinbrucke, the night aftel'
Denis had seen her in the garden for the
last time, and she had told him what she
thought him. l told her how the prince had
forced fight with Denis ana now DeIhs
had spared his life.
And so l went on defending the man
loved, telling her how we all. old Mac
Kenzie Col. Won Altdorf, the prince, all OF
US, had come to think of him as the noblest,
most unselfSh gentleman We had ever
known. And the princess, eyes upon the
ground, hands gripped tensely in her lap,
listened with never word OF protest, nay,
with sort Of eagerness, I'll swear.
breathleSSnesS that mutely prayed me 10
go on when l paused for breath.
l was, at the moment, too angry to NOTICE
little signs too hurt to observe significant
things. but now, as l go over the scene in
my mind, can picture her, flushed, silent,
listening, full of an eagerness that she
would not manifest, hungry for words and
praises of the man she loved, but ever fore
ing herself to the cold indifference in which
her pride must cloak itself.
And when l had made an end of speaking,
stammering for very want of words. flushed
and unstrung, she only stirred in her chair
with little semblance of WEAKNESS and
raised her gloomy eyes for an instant to
mine.
Indeed, sir" she said coldly, this gen.
tleman seems to stand in no lack of friends
you. I remember him only as one who
wronged and shamed me cruelty May we
not speak of something else?"
But sprang to my feet red and angry.
'If he wronged you, madame" l cried,
ut was to save your life! If he seemed to
do dishonorable thing it was because he
held your safety higher than his honor And
If all this is not enough, he saved your life
a second time, and Is giving his own at
this very moment for your sakei leg your
leave to go, madamer
The princess looked up swiftly and half
stretched out her hand to me. Her eyes
were wide and pleading and her lips quiv-
cred.
"Ah, no, no! Don't go, Mr.. Creighton
she begged, very low. Il don't mean to-"
II beg your leave to go, princess!'' said
again, for 1 was very angry.
why, very well, SIR" said she family.
and sank back once more in her chair. II
would not have you go, but If you must
why won't stop you. Only-only remem-
Der that you are always-welcome here
in the garden-I shall always be-glad to
see you" And marched stiffiy away, say
ing to myself that it would be a very long
time before l should walk again in the old
convent garden
(To be continued tomorrow