I took them mechanically.  There, were the seals, the flowing ribbons, the heavy signature of the King.  The sheets rustled and twisted in my fingers, curling back and forth like things alive.  I saw them dimly as though through a haze; my senses were dulled with sudden wonder and emotion.  And, yet, I had thought of it all many times since yesterday; Courtney had predicted for me some of these very honors; I, myself, had even anticipated them—­indeed, they had been the powerful inducement for my decision.  And, now, when I had them in my very hands, put there by the King himself, I was simply overpowered.  To some scoffer I may seem sentimental or childish; and to him I say:  “wait until you are in similar circumstances.”

Presently I got my senses and, I trust, thanked His Majesty in proper words.  But he, would have none of it.

“They are yours by right of birth, you have simply come to your own,” he said.

“But only by your gracious favor,” I protested.

“Then, do me a small return:  wear the Huzzar uniform this evening.”

I must have looked my surprise.

“We are pretty much of a size and I think mine will fit you,” he observed.

“It is very little you ask, Sire.”  I answered.

“Then my valet will squire you,” and he rang for the servant.

And it was well he did; for I was not used to fancy uniforms, with their peculiar fastenings and adornments, and I might have spent the entire evening in solving them.  But Adolph attired me with astonishing celerity, and then, swinging a cheval glass before me, he inquired: 

“Are you satisfied, sir?”

“You are a wonderful valet, Adolph,” I said, ignoring the mirror.

I did not need it to know that I was clad in scarlet and gold, with a black, fur-bound dohlman over one shoulder and a tall black busby on my head.  I hung the Eagle of the Cincinnati about my neck and went back to the King.

He looked me over critically and nodded.  “You’ll do, my boy,” he said.  Then he raised the Eagle and examined it.  “It is a great Order,” he said; “one of the greatest in the world, but a Prince of Valeria must wear his country’s also,” and he pinned the Star of the Lion on my tunic.  “And now, come, I want to show you to your cousin.”

At the door of the Princess’s apartments he waved aside the footman and, himself, announced: 

“His Royal Highness, the Grand Duke Armand!”

It was so unexpected and sounded so queer, withal, that, for a moment, I hesitated; then I took a fresh grip on my busby and followed the King.  The next instant, I was bending over the Princess’s hand and listening to her words of welcome and congratulation.  When I turned to Lady Helen she curtsied deeply, even as she would have done for one of her own Princes.

“God save Your Royal Highness,” she said.

And, as I raised her hand and kissed it, I tried, in vain, to read in her eyes whether she meant it or was only mocking me.