"Gentlemen," said the duke, rising and holding up his glass, "this night
I give you a toast which I believe will be agreeable to all of you,
especially to his excellency, Baron von Steinbock of Jugendheit. What is
past is past; a new regime begins this night." He paused. All eyes were
focused upon him in wonder. Only Baron von Steinbock displayed no more
than ordinary interest. "I give you," resumed the duke, "her serene
highness and his majesty, Frederick of Jugendheit!"
The princess grew delicately pale as the men and women sprang to their
feet. Every hand swept toward her, holding a glass. She had surrendered
that morning. Not because she wished to be a queen, not because she
cared to bring about an alliance between the two countries; no, it was
because she was afraid and had burned the bridge behind her.
The tan thinned on Carmichael's face, but his hand was steady. Never
would he forget the tableau. She sat still in her chair, her lids
drooped, but a proud lift to her chin. The collar of pearls round her
neck had scarce more luster than her shoulders. How red her lips seemed
against the whiteness of her skin! Beautiful to him beyond all dreams of
beauty. God send another war and let him die in the heart of it,
fighting! To dream lies as he had done this twelvemonth, to break his
heart over the moon! He sat his glass down untouched, happily
unobserved.
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