HER LITTLE HIGHNESS.

Auckland Star, Volume XXVI, Issue 195, 16 August 1895, Page 3

HER LITTLE HIGHNESS.

TUAKSLATED FBOSI THE GERMAN OP NATALY

YON ESCHSTRUTH,

Anfchor. of * A Prieabaes of Comedy,* • Countess Dynar,'' A Princess of bhe Stage,' etc., etc..

BTELISEL. LATHROP,

CHAPTER XV.—(Continued.)

Vallkral leaned his handsome head thoughtfully back upon the cushions.

• This question is easier asked than answered. Let us see. In love up to my ears, as the eaying goes; in love with all the youthful, passionate fire of a first love —no, Cyril, probably my heart is no longer capable of that, although really it is remarkable when one considers Rafaola's charms and great beauty. Bub love is acknowledged to bo blind, and belongs in the category of absurdities to which no logic can be applied. What was formerly so distasteful to me in Bafaela's manner that it prevented me from falling passionately in love with her, was possibly the fact that she ottered me her. love unasked. Since her widowhood, since the unfortunate 11 Madam Potiphar" appeared, she has treated me coldly, distantly, even indifferently. That pleased me. She has become more and more to my taste, and if the witch continues to treat me sio badly, perhaps, despite my grey hairs, I may fall passionately in love with her. At> present —you see how alarmingly frank I am—l feel no warmer emotions toward her thau toward any other lady. They all pay too much court to me, so they all bore me. My mind can, therefore, form my plans all the more clearly. Rafaela would be the most brilliant match for me, even if sho did not wear a coronet). " Madam Potiphar " has to a certain extent, compromised the princess with me. I will show her that in the proper light and make it seem plausible. She will see that our marriage has become a moral necessity. Her love will become more ardent, and Hymen will give us his blessing. Now, you must admit that lam right, my boy.'

Cyril wa3 deathly pale. He pressed both hands bo his head, as though forcing himself to be calm.

'The world has forgotten " Madam Potiphar,'' the book has lost its effect,' he murmured hoarsely. The captain sab up eagerly. ' Forgotten ? ' Now, after Claudine Bahrenberg's will, forgotten V he cried, looking as though he did nob understand.

The young chamberlain stared ab him blankly.

• Whab haa Baroness yon Bahrenberg bo do with " Madam Potiphar V" 'Boy ! —Man alive, have you nob yeb heard the latest ? I really believe, Hosanna, you think the newspapers too godleeß to road.'

' 1 do nob understand you !' gasped the tortured Cyril.

Cyprian hastily drew a paper from his pocket.

' You have nob read this-yeb?' ' No, why Bhould I have read ib V

k Oh, sancta simplicitas ! The bookworm pores over leather folios, and refreshes himself with the news of paeb centuries, while the present hurls its "bombs into the world. Here, read, and remain in possession of your senses.' Laughingly the captain opeued the newspaper and placed*it in his son's hands.

Cyril glanced ab ib indifferently. Suddenly he started slightly and stared at a column in breathless horror. Claudine yon Bahrcnberg had made the author of 1 Madam Potiphar' her sole heir ! That again was an inexhaustible supply of water for the mill of scandal. That was an event of inestimable consequence. As though crushed by the weight of this second, unexpected blow, Cyril's head fell forward on his trembling hands. •

' Oh, God, this is terrible !' be groaned. The captain burst into loud laughter. 1 Boy, are you crazy ? You are as eenfci mental to-day as a consumptive maiden. Why does the Bahrenberg will irritate you? I would, at most, think it unfortunate that I am not the author of the little book. Parbleu ! In that case I would not hesitate for a moment to give up my incognito. The inheritance mounts into millions, and for such a prize I would gladly let myßelf be wondered at as an intellectual man.'

Cyrii raieed his head suddenly, his face distorted with emotion.

•Indeed ? And Princess Rafaela ? Would you bo easily give up her love and hand for this miserable mammon V cried Cyril bitterly.

' Why give ib up ? Ab firsb she would, of course, hurl all her thunder-bolts of disfavour upon me,' said Valleral, shrugging his shoulders carelessly. « Bub that would make our little war of love interesting.. I imagine the angry goddess would be Charming, and I am vain enough to flatter myself that in time I could reconcile her. Pah? Why do we discuss soap-bubbles. Unfortunately, poor devil that I am, [am nob the author of "Madam Potiphar," and my only consolation in the matter is that perhaps I will now learn who the droll fellow is who describes mo—ha, ha, ha ! as a prudish Joseph.'

Cyril sat erecb, and a look of unnatural repose made his colourless face appear rigid.

'Do you think, then, that he will announce himself ? Possibly there are men to whom such wealth would be a recompense for anything.' He interrupted himself hastily. ' Well, let us return to our first and more important theme. So you have debts ? Pray tell me the amount, papa.'

' Nonsense ! I will not consent thab you pay them.1

1 This one—lasb time ib will probably be possible for me to do so,' the young count hastily assured him, and for the first time the colour returned to his cheeks. 'Do you think I would allow you to be your wife's slave merely because she had saved you, with a few banknotes, from poverty ? You are not Buited to married life ; ib would be your misery.'

• Ob, no, indeed ! I assure you, on my word, that I will feel quite comfortable in my old days as a domestic man.'

Valleral calmly lighted a cigarette, afber offering one bo his son, who declined with a gesture.

' You see, 1 am still a handsome fellow, am wonderfully successful with the ladies, but—who knows how lonw tins will last.'

Cyril made an impatient movement,

'Do nob deceive yourself with such illusions which will never be realised. A man like you would not submib to feminine caprice. Your domestic happiness weald nob latsb long, and instead of a comfortable, untroubled old age, you would have a hell upon earth. I beg you, leb me arrange your affairs this one time. Ib will b8 the last time possible, bub if God wills also the last that you need my help, eh, father ?' ' You may fully rely upon thab, Hosanna,' said the captain, firmly. 'Had I nob drunk so much champagne it would nob have happened—on my word !'

' And you will give up your absurd matrimonial plans ?'

Valleral sighed,

' Heaven knows why you get along so badly with the princess. She would surely have listened bo me—but—oh, well, I will not be unthankful to you, my good boy,' ' Promise me—l beg you.' • A vow ? Good gracious, then, nighb and. day I Bhould he tempted to break it.

Who can seriously answer for his heart ? If the princess continues bo treat me badiy, my obstinacy will demand that her heart) be captivated once more. Good heavens, boy, do not look so wild 1 The knife is not actually ab my throat yet, if you really will be so generous as to buy off your old father once more—'

'Yes, I will. Have you time bo discuss the details of the matter with me ab once ?'

' Impossible, my dear, nor is there such urgency. My creditor is a gentleman. I should like to pay a call and find out when and where Rafaela will make her entrance to-morrcw. I should like to send her aome flowera as greeting.'

' The bonr of her arrival is to remain an absolute secret, as her highness travels incognita, and has forbidden all official welcome.'

' Nonsense! Thab is merely some bib of importance on the court) marshal's parb. Why this absolute secrecy ? Thab the city should be decorated and illuminated, and a delegation Bent to the railway station, is superfluous and can easily be omitted. Bub why we, members of society, should ba treated like children before Christmas,-I do nob understand.'

'The princess probably intends to live as quietly now as before.'

' Heaven forbid such a notion. All extremes are absurd, and she was no euch Mary, heaven knows, that Bhe need suddenly become a Mary Magdalen. It is all the influence of that infamous book, 11 Madam Potiphar !'\ Ib would be an eternal shame if our gay, harmless princess should mourn in sackcloth and ashes for the rest of her life.' -.\ . . ... .

• That is not necessary H she really tries to avoid everything that may occasion talk. God grant that the poor young thing may be better understood and \more justly judged than formerly.' \ •I wish her that will all vny heart.' The captain rose and rang for hia\overcoat. ' But one thing I know, I will virrite the next "Madam Potiphar," and thefl, perhaps, my friend,. Baroness Only, wiß give me the other half of Babrenberg.' V ' Only ! You remind me most) opportunely of an involuntary sin. Here is \n invitation which is doubtless addressed t^> you: "Count 0. yon Lankwitz." Ab\ that name belongs to us both, and the \ baroness saved her ink and did not add "Captain," I opened the letter, thinking it was addressed to me.'

'C. yon Lankwitz. I find ib quite serious to have a son with the same initial,' laughed Cyprian, opening the note hastily. ' And besides that, our strangely similar handwriting,' said Cyril, 'Pray, sign all your love-letters with your name in full.'

4Oh course. Ah, friend Ohly baa at length returned from her wanderings; " Mignon's education by sea and land is completed." Heaven help us! Surely a highly modern young lady, with a classical education, and a volume of her own writings upon the emancipation of woman in her pockeb. Well, then : " Mignon'a education is completed. We think of making our quarters here for the winter, and will be very pleased if you, my dear count, will, as an old friend', be our first dinner guest. To-morrow evening, ab six o'clock, we expect CountesssS,"—Oh, heavens, S. \-r-'% to be with us on her way north. In case you are free and willing" — thab, of course, Annie Florenco, I will come. Thanks, Cyril, this note really pleases me. You were foolish nob to accept) ift for yourself; Had 1 been in your place I would hare played the devil of a joke. Well, so much the better. Hosanna permits himself no such jokes as grey-haired Valloral. Goodby, then, you dear old chap. To-morrow afternoon I will come and discuss the fatal story of the missing gold pieces wifch yon. Ha, ha ! Good night, my dear sober-sides. I suppose you will nob come with me to the dub?1

'Not for the world !'

' Well, there have to be such odd fqllpwa in a world. Good-by, then, my boy: May all the muses be gracious to you.' And Valleral, after a hearty shake of his son's hand, hurried away. His moodiness waa gone like enow in April, and his face was once more all sunshine.

(To be Continued.)