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"I shall never be able to look that man in the face again," came dolefully from Yetive's humbled lips. Dagmar was all smiles and in the fittest of humors. She was the kind of a culprit who loves the punishment because of the crime. "Wasn't it ridiculous, and wasn't it just too lovely?" she cried.
Petersburg and other pleasures had to be abandoned, and they were in tears. Yetive's maids were packing the trunks, and Lorry's servants were in a wild state of haste preparing for the departure on Saturday's ship. On Friday afternoon, Beverly was naturally where she could do the most good and be of the least help at the Lorrys'. Self-confessedly, she delayed the preparations.
For three solid hours she had stubbornly withstood Yetive's appeals to remove her hat, insisting that she could not trust herself to stay more than a minute or two." It seems to me, Yetive, that your jailers must be very incompetent or they wouldn't have let loose all this trouble upon you," she complained. "Prince Gabriel is the very essence of trouble," confessed Yetive, plaintively."
"I must have my answer to-night, or you know what will happen," he snarled, but he felt in his heart that he had lost through his eagerness. She flew to Yetive's boudoir, consumed by rage and mortification. Between sobs and feminine maledictions she poured the whole story, in all its ugliness, into the ears of the princess.
If she led him into the city it was decidedly probable that she might be taking him to his death. She only could petition, not command. Once at Yetive's side she was confident she could save the man who had done so much for her, but Ganlook was many miles from Edelweiss, and there was no assurance that intervention could be obtained in time.
"Your highness," addressing Yetive, "Miss Calhoun has a note which she refuses to let anyone read but you. Now, my dear young lady, you may give it directly into the hands of her highness." Beverly gave him a look of scorn, but without a second's hesitation placed the missive in Yetive's hand. The Iron Count's jaw dropped, and he moistened his lips with his tongue two or three times.
Slowly they made their way to the fairy grotto deep in the thicket of trees. It was Yetive's favorite dreaming place. Dark and cool and musical with the rippling of waters, it was an ideal retreat. She dropped upon the rustic bench that stood against the moss-covered wall of boulders. With the gentle reserve of a man who reveres as well as loves, Baldos stood above her.
"Prince Dantan!" she cried, unbelieving. He pushed the boyish figure aside and whispered earnestly into Yetive's ear. She smiled warmly in response, and her eyes sparkled. "And this, your highness, is his sister, the Princess Candace," he announced aloud, bowing low before the girl. At that instant she ceased to be the timid, cringing boy.
"There was one other condition," said Bolaroz, hastily, unable to gloat as he had expected. "The recapture of the assassin who slew my son would have meant much to Graustark. It is unfortunate that your police department is so inefficient." Dangloss writhed beneath this thrust. Yetive's eyes went to him, for an instant, sorrowfully.
"She will not mind my telling you, because she considers you the very best of men, Mr. Lorry," said the Countess, who had learned her English under the Princess Yetive's tutor.
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