“Let us walk to the gates.  The Count will oblige us by instructing the coachman to follow,” said Lorry, eager to be off.

“Allow me to join you in the walk, gentlemen,” said Count Caspar, immediately instructing a lackey to send the carriage after them.  He and Lorry walked on together, Anguish lingering behind, having caught sight of the Countess Dagmar.  That charming and unconventional piece of nobility promptly followed the prime minister’s example and escorted the remaining guest to the gate.

Far down the walk Lorry turned for a last glance at the castle from which love had banished him.  Yetive was standing on the balcony, looking not at the monastery but at the exile.

She remained there long after the carriage had passed her gates, bearing the Americans swiftly over the white Castle Avenue, and there were tears in her eyes.

XV

THE BETROTHAL

Harry Anguish was a discreet, forbearing fellow.  He did not demand a full explanation of his friend.  There was enough natural wit in his merry head to see that in connection with their departure there was something that would not admit of discussion, even by confidential friends.  He shrewdly formed his own conclusions and held his peace.  Nor did he betray surprise when Lorry informed him, in answer to a question, that he intended to remain in Edelweiss for some time, adding that he could not expect him to do likewise if he preferred to return to Paris.  But Mr. Anguish preferred to remain in Edelweiss.  Had not the Countess Dagmar told him she would always be happy to see him at the castle, and had he any reason to renounce its walls?  And so it was that they tarried together.

Lorry loitered aimlessly, moodily about the town, spending gloomy days and wretched nights.  He reasoned that it were wisdom to fly, but a force stronger than reason held him in Edelweiss.  He ventured several times to the castle wall, but turned back resolutely.  There was hope in his breast that she might send for him; there was, at least, the possibility of seeing her should she ride through the streets.  Anguish, on the other hand, visited the castle daily.  He spent hours with the pretty Countess, undismayed by the noble moths that fluttered about her flame, and he was ever persistent, light-hearted and gay.  He brought to Lorry’s ears all that he could learn of the Princess.  Several times he had seen her and had spoken with her.  She inquired casually after the health of his friend, but nothing more.  From the Countess he ascertained that Her Highness was sleeping soundly, eating heartily and apparently enjoying the best of spirits—­information decidedly irritating to the one who received it second-hand.

They had been at the hotel for over a week when one afternoon Anguish rushed into the room, out of breath and scarcely able to control his excitement.