“And what is the alternative in case the indemnity is not paid?” asked Lorry, breathlessly, for he saw something bright in the approaching calamity.

“The cession of all that part of Graustark lying north of Edelweiss, including fourteen towns, all of our mines and our most productive farming and grazing lands.  In that event Graustark will be no larger than one of the good-sized farms in your western country.  There will be nothing left for Her Royal Highness to rule save a tract so small that the word principality will be a travesty and a jest.  This city and twenty-five miles to the south, a strip about one hundred fifty miles long.  Think of it!  Twenty-five by one hundred fifty miles, and yet called a principality!  Once the proudest and most prosperous state in the east, considering its size, reduced to that!  Ach, gentlemen —­gentlemen!  I cannot think of it without tearing out a heart-string and suffering such pains as mortal man has never endured.  I lived in Graustark’s days of wealth, power and supremacy; God has condemned me to live in the days of her dependency, weakness and poverty.  Let us talk no more of this unpleasant subject.”

His hearers pitied the frank, proud old man from the bottoms of their hearts.  He had told them the story with the candor and simplicity of a child, admitting weakness and despondency.  Still he sat erect and defiant, his face white and drawn, his figure suggesting the famous picture of the stag at bay.

“Willingly, your excellency, since it is distasteful to you.  I hope, however, you will permit me to ask how much you are short of the amount,” said Lorry, considerately yet curiously.

“Our minister of finance, Gaspon, will be able to produce fifteen million gavvos at the stated time—­far from enough.  This amount has been sucked from the people from excessive levy, and has been hoarded for the dreaded day.  Try as we would, it has been impossible to raise the full amount.  The people have been bled and have responded nobly, sacrificing everything to meet the treaty terms honorably, but the strain has been too great.  Our army has cost us large sums.  We have strengthened our defenses, and could, should we go to war, defeat Axphain.  But we have our treaty to honor; we could not take up arms to save ourselves from that honest bond.  Our levies have barely brought the amount necessary to, maintain an army large enough to inspire respect among those who are ready to leap upon us the instant we show the least sign of distress.  There are about us powers that have held aloof from war with us simply because we have awed them with our show of force.  It has been our safeguard, and there is not a citizen of Graustark who objects to the manner in which state affairs are conducted.  They know that our army is an economy at any price.  Until last spring we were confident that we could raise the full amount due Axphain, but the people in the rural districts were unable to meet the levies on