"You must remember," Beverly said in reply to one of Ravone's sallies,

"that Americans are not in the least awed by Europe's greatness. It has

come to the pass when we call Europe our playground. We now go to Europe

as we go to the circus or the county fair at home. It isn't much more

trouble, you know, and we must see the sights."

"Alas, poor Europe!" he laughed. As he strolled about with her and

Candace he pointed out certain men to her, asking her to tax her memory

in the effort to recall their faces if not their apparel. She readily

recognized in the lean, tired faces the men she had met first at the Inn

of the Hawk and Raven.

"They were vagabonds then, Miss Calhoun. Now they are noblemen. Does the

transition startle you?"

"Isn't Baldos among them?" she asked, voicing the query that had been

uppermost in her mind since the moment when she looked down from the

galleries and failed to see him. She was wondering how he would appear

in court costume.

"You forget that Baldos is only a guard," he said kindly.

"He is a courtier, nevertheless," she retorted.

She was vaguely disappointed because he was missing from the scene of

splendor. It proved to her that caste overcame all else In the

rock-ribbed east. The common man, no matter how valiant, had no place in

such affairs as these. Her pride was suffering. She was as a queen among

the noblest of the realm. As the wife of Baldos she would live in

another world--on the outskirts of this one of splendor and arrogance.

A stubborn, defiant little frown appeared on her brow as she pictured

herself in her mind's eye standing afar off with "the man" Baldos,

looking at the opulence she could not reach. Her impetuous, rebellious

little heart was thumping bitterly as she considered this single phase

of the life to come. She was ready to cry out against the injustice of

it all. The little frown was portentous of deep-laid designs. She would

break down this cruel barrier that kept Baldos from the fields over

which prejudice alone held sway. Her love for him and her determination

to be his wife were not in the least dulled by these reflections.

The doors to the great banquet-hall were thrown open at last and in the

disorder that followed she wondered who was to lead her to the

feasting. The Duke of Mizrox claimed the Princess Candace.

"I am to have the honor," said someone at her side, and the voice was

the one she least expected to hear utter the words. The speaker was the

man who deserved the place beside Yetive--Prince Dantan himself.




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