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An ambitious minister, listening attentively to the warning against Krovitch, determined to put a quietus on that province, which once and for all time would blight her hopes of independence. He wired many questions and voluminous suggestions to his agent in Paris, Casper Haupt, who was a sub-chief of the White Police.
I must be by to guide him for Krovitch. But, ah, 'twill be with a heavy heart!" He leaned across from his saddle. "I care not for Krovitch so much as you do. Tell me that you love me." She turned away her face that the eye of the man might not see and be blinded by the white light of the woman's love which shone in her own countenance. "Say it, Trusia," he urged; "say it for my soul's peace."
"Besides," he pleaded, "it will take me some time to thank you for your kindness in giving me my brevet. I know it is an honor which many a man of Krovitch would die to win." She flushed as she answered him. "It was but a small return for what you have suffered."
"And the maidens of Krovitch, what have they dreamed?" She glanced up to see if his expression matched the apparent gravity of his words. Reassured by the entire absence of banter in his face, she answered him sincerely. She was too guileless to analyze his possible mental attitude save by these superficial indications.
While the horses were being hastily saddled, Trusia had the garrison assembled in the courtyard and explained to the heart-broken soldiers that Krovitch's dream of independence was over, giving them free permission to leave their colors at once if any so desired. When she called for volunteers to aid in her escape every man sprang forward, loudly cheering Trusia, then Krovitch.
Possessed by the ardor of the song, the nobles, drawing their swords, cried in ecstatic chorus, "For Krovitch! For Krovitch!" In their pandemonium of joy, Carter's distress was unnoted.
He stood erect, proudly lifting his hat to the full height of his arm in dignified response. There came a mightier cheer. "Long live Stovik Fourth!" "God save the King of Krovitch!" "A Lion for the Bear!" Filled with the moment's majesty, Stovik stepped down to greet his officers. Next came Trusia. The crowd caught sight of her happy, inspired face.
Without this submission on her part we could count on no united Krovitch. Our country worships her and will follow no king who will not seat her upon his throne. Get that angel face out of your heart. Deafen your ears to her voice before, like me, you try too late. Oh, I know, I saw," he hastened on as Carter would have stopped him, "love makes all eyes keen. You love Trusia."
The haut nobility of Krovitch were present at the Ducal reception that night. Glittering uniforms, with a plentiful supply of feminine silks and sparkling jewels, made even the gray old halls of the castle take on a warmer, gladder note.
Look, too, where she would she could not escape the eyes of encircling masculinity. Carter, appreciating her embarrassment and feeling an American gentleman's compassion for her predicament, undertook a divertisement. "Fine picture, that," he said, loud enough to be heard by the others. "Those chaps are wearing the Krovitch Lion, too. Coincidence, isn't it?"
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