“I only ask—­” he began, eagerly, but she interrupted.

“You should not ask anything, for I have said I cannot pay.  I owe to you all I have, but cannot pay the debt.”

“I shall not again forget,” he murmured.

“To-morrow, if you like, I will take you over the castle and let you see the squalor in which I exist,—­my throne room, my chapel, my banquet hall, my ball room, my conservatory, my sepulchre.  You may say it is wealth, but I shall call it poverty,” she said, after they had watched the black monastery cut a square corner from the moon’s circle.

“To-morrow, if you will be so kind.”

“Perhaps I may be poorer after I have saved Graustark,” she said.

“I would to God I could save you from that!” he said.

“I would to God you could,” she said.  Her manner changed suddenly.  She laughed gaily, turning a light face to his.  “I hear your friend’s laugh out there in the darkness.  It is delightfully infectious,”

XIV

THE EPISODE OF THE THRONE ROOM

“This is the throne room.  Allode!”

The Princess Yetive paused before two massive doors.  It was the next afternoon, and she had already shown him the palace of a queen—­the hovel of a pauper!

Through the afternoon not one word other than those which might have passed between good friends escaped the lips of either.  He was all interest, she all graciousness.  Allode, the sturdy guard, swung open the doors, drew the curtain, and stood aside for them to pass.  Into the quiet hall she led him, a princess in a gown of gray, a courtier in tweeds.  Inside the doors he paused.

“And I thought you were Miss Guggenslocker,” he said.  She laughed with the glee of a child who has charmed and delighted through surprise.

“Am I not a feeble mite to sit on that throne and rule all that comes within its reach?” She directed his attention to the throne at the opposite end of the hall.  “From its seat I calmly instruct gray-haired statesmen, weigh their wisdom and pass upon it as if I were Demosthenes, challenge the evils that may drive monarchs mad, and wonder if my crown is on straight.”

“Let me be ambassador from the United States and kneel at the throne, your Highness.”

“I could not engage in a jest with the crown my ancestors wore, Mr. Lorry.  It is sacred, thou thoughtless American.  Come, we will draw nearer that you may see the beauty of the workmanship in that great old chair.”

They stood at the base of the low, velveted stage on which stood the chair, with its high back, its massive arms and legs ashimmer in the light from the lofty windows.  It was of gold, inlaid with precious stones—­diamonds, rubies, emeralds, sapphires and other wondrous jewels—­a relic of ancient Graustark.

“I never sit in the center.  Always at one side or the other, usually leaning my elbow on the arm.  You see, the discussions are generally so long and dreary that I become fatigued.  One time,—­I am ashamed to confess it, I went to sleep on the throne.  That was long ago.  I manage to keep awake very well of late.  Do you like my throne room?”