The Lighted Match

"If I am to stay here until I recant what I said about your odious

kingdom and your miserable throne, I'll--I'll--" He cast about for a

sufficiently rebellious sentiment, then resolutely asserted: "I'll stay

here until I rot in my chains." He raised his hands and shook imaginary

manacles. "Clink! Clink! Clink!" he added dramatically.

"You are being punished for being too fascinating to a poor little fool

princess who has played truant and who doesn't want to go back to

school." She talked on with forced levity. "As for the kingdom,"--once

more her eyes became wistful--"you may say what you like about it. You

can't possibly hate it as much as I. There is no anarchist screaming his

adherence to the red flag or inventing infernal machines, who hates all

thrones as much as the one small girl who must needs be Queen of

Galavia. No, lèse-majesté is not the fault for which you are being

punished."

For a while he was silent, then his voice was raised in exile, almost

cheerfully.

"Destiny is stronger than the paretic councils of little inbred kings.

Why, Cara, I can get one good, husky Methodist preacher who can do in

five minutes what I hardly think your royalties can undo--ever."

"Oh, don't!" she stopped him with plaintive appeal. "I know all that. I

know it. Don't you realize that the longer the flight into the open blue

of the skies, the harder the return to a gilt cage? But, dearest--there

is such a thing as keeping one's parole. I must go back, unless I am

held by a force stronger than I. I must go back. I have been here almost

too long."

"Cara," he said slowly, "I, too, have a sense of duty. It is to you. The

open blue of the skies is yours by right--divine right. You have nothing

to do with cages, gilt or otherwise. My duty is to free you. I mean to

do it. I haven't finished thinking it out yet, but I am going to find

the way."

Her answering voice was deeply grave.

"If you just devise a situation where I shall have to fight it all out

again, you will only make it harder for me. I must do what I must do. I

could only be rescued by some power stronger than myself. Come, let's

go back."

At dinner that same evening Mrs. Van announced to her guests that "by

request of one who should be nameless," punctuating her pledge of

secrecy with a pronounced glance at Benton, there would be a masquerade

affair on the evening before Cara's departure for New York. She said

this was to be an informal sort of frolic in fancy dress, and the only

requirement would be that every grown-up should for an evening return to

childhood.