“It is needless for me to say,” continued the Minister, “that the situation is most embarrassing.  But there is no reason why the Grand Duchess should not have visited her friend—­no reason why she should not have come to Washington on her way back to her own country.  She would naturally wish to avoid publicity and, of course, the Ministry was constantly in touch with her moves.  All this is a reasonable explanation of what has occurred.  As to the body’s having lain neglected in the Baltimore morgue for some hours, something must be assumed by the telegraph company.  The body has already been embalmed, and arrangements have been made for its shipment to Europe.  I shall myself go to Baltimore this afternoon.  Do you, Reverend Sir, wish it known that the friend of the Grand Duchess is your niece?”

“Yes; but I wish it put to the world in the proper form.  Since Your Excellency is preparing copy for the papers, may I ask if you will permit me to revise it?”

“That I shall be glad to do,” said the Minister, his face all smiles.

As His Excellency was about to depart, Saunders stopped him.

“One word, Your Excellency.  Baron Griffin and myself were witnesses to a very sad occurrence in Sihasset—­”

The Minister turned hurriedly.

“You are mistaken, my friend,” he said, significantly.  “You are mistaken.  You saw nothing—­remember that.  It will be better for all concerned.  Your State Department would not thank you for making embarrassing statements.  Things have come out happily for you, if not for the unfortunate Duchess.  Yet, after all, perhaps the best thing that could have happened for her was what you believed—­until you were corrected—­happened in Sihasset.  Baron Griffin will tell you that I speak the truth when I say that the next best thing was her own death.”

Mark inclined his head, for he had heard something of the reputation of Luigi del Farno, when he was in Florence.

And then for the moment the Minister was forgotten in the man, and tears glistened in His Excellency’s eyes.

“Gentlemen,” he said, “I never saw Her Royal Highness.  But I have heard a great deal of her, and I have followed her career.  She was not born to be a Duchess.  She had all my sympathy, for she was just a woman—­beautiful, sentimental, loving.  She was just the kind to do the rash things which courts will not tolerate.  She was the kind to follow her own heart and not the dictates of kings.  She was unhappy at court, and that unhappiness was increased when she fell in love with the Italian.  She was the kind who would love until death—­and then beyond the grave.  She was one who would make any sacrifice to her devotion.  But she fought against the solid rock of princely customs and prejudices, and there was nothing for her but to break upon it.  Her love ruined that young officer.  He was doomed from the moment she went away and he followed her.