Over there distinction exists only in wealth and intelligence—­position, I believe they call it, but not such as ours.  He is a strange man, and we have yet to consult him as to the arrangement,” she said to her lords, pursing her lips.  “I fear he will object to the plan we have agreed upon,” she went on.  “He is sensitive, and it is possible he will not like the idea of putting our marriage to the popular vote of the people.”

“I insist, however, that the people be considered in the matter,” said Gaspon.  “In three month’s time the whole nation can say whether it sanctions the revision of our laws of heredity.  It would not be right or just for us to say who shall be their future rulers, for all time to come, without consulting them.”

“I have no hesitancy in saying that Graustark already idolizes this brave American,” said Halfont, warmly.  “He has won her affection.  If the question is placed before the people to-morrow in proper form, I will vouch for it that the whole nation will rise and cry:  ‘Long live the Princess!  Long live the Prince Consort!’”

“Goin’ back, I see,” said Sitzky, the guard, some months later, addressing a very busy young man, who was hurrying down the platform of the Edelweiss railway station toward the special train which was puffing impatiently.

“Hello, Sitzky!  Is it you?  I’m glad to see you again.  Yes, we are going back to the land of the Stars and Stripes.”  The speaker was Mr. Anguish.

“You’ll have fine company ‘s fer as Vienna, too.  D’ you ever see such a celebration’s dey’re havin’ here to-day?  You’d t’ink d’ whole world was interested in d’ little visit Her Royal Highness is goin’ to pay to Vienna.  Dummed if d’ whole city, soldiers an’ all, ain’t down here to see ‘er off.  Look at d’ crowd!  By glory, I don’t b’lieve we c’n pull d’ train out of d’ station.  ‘Quainted wid any of d’ royal crowd?”

“Slightly,” answered Anguish, smiling.  He was watching a trim figure in a tailor-made gown as it approached, drawing apart from the throng.  It was Mrs. Harry Van Brugh Anguish.

“Say, you must cut some ice wid dese people.  But dat’s jest like an American, dough,” the little guard went on.  “De Princess married an American an’ dey say he’s goin’ to put d’ crown away where d’ moths won’t git at it an’ take her over to live in Washington fer six months.  Is it a sure t’ing?”

“That’s right, Sitzky.  She’s going back with us and then we’re coming back with her.”

“Why don’t he keep ’er over dere when he gits her dere?  What’s d’ use—­what’s d’ use?”

“Well, she’s still the Princess of Graustark, you know, Sitzky.  She can’t live always in America.”

“Got to be here to hold her job, eh?”

“Inelegant but correct.  Now, look sharp!  Where do we find our —­Ah!” His wife was with him and he forgot Sitzky.

The guard turned to watch the procession—­a file of soldiers, a cavalry troop, carriages and then—­the carriage with spirited horses and gay accoutrements.  It stopped with a jangle and a man and woman descended.