obvious efforts to attract his attention, and the languishing glances of her great black eyes. But it is the lot of prominent personages to inspire these strange passions, and the King had spent as little thought on her as on any of the romantic girls who found a naughty delight in half-fanciful devotion to him—devotion starting in many cases, by an irony of which the King was happily unconscious, from the brave figure that he made at his coronation and his picturesque daring in the affair of Black Michael. The worshippers never came near enough to perceive the alteration in their idol.
The half, then, at least of Rosa's attachment was justly due to the man who now stood opposite to her, looking at her with surprise by the murky light of the strong-smelling oil-lamp. The lamp shook and almost fell from her hand when she saw him; for the scarf had slid away, and his features were exposed to full view. Fright, delight, and excitement vied with one another in her eyes.
"The King!" she whispered in amazement. "No, but" And she searched his face wonderingly.
"Is it the beard you miss?" asked Rudolf, fingering his chin. "Mayn't kings shave when they please as well as other men?" Her face still expressed bewilderment, and still a lingering doubt. He bent towards her,
