| CONTENTS. | ||
|---|---|---|
| CHAPTER | PAGE | |
| I.— | A pious hyperbole | [1] |
| II.— | A bird without wings | [11] |
| III.— | Some secret opinions | [22] |
| IV.— | Two of my makers | [34] |
| V.— | Something about Victoria | [47] |
| VI.— | A student of love affairs | [60] |
| VII.— | Things not to be noticed | [73] |
| VIII.— | Destiny in a pinafore | [84] |
| IX.— | Just what would happen | [96] |
| X.— | Of a political appointment | [109] |
| XI.— | An act of abdication | [122] |
| XII.— | King at a price | [136] |
| XIII.— | I promise not to laugh | [151] |
| XIV.— | Pleasure takes leave to protest | [165] |
| XV.— | The hair-dresser waits | [179] |
| XVI.— | A chase of two phantoms | [193] |
| XVII.— | Decidedly mediæval | [207] |
| XVIII.— | William Adolphus hits the mark | [219] |
| XIX.— | Great promotion | [233] |
| XX.— | An interesting parallel | [248] |
| XXI.— | On the art of falling soft | [261] |
| XXII.— | Ut puto, vestis fio | [275] |
| XXIII.— | A paradox of sensibility | [290] |
| XXIV.— | What a question! | [304] |
| XXV.— | A smack of repetition | [318] |
| XXVI.— | The secret of the Countess | [334] |
| XXVII.— | Of grazes on the knee | [349] |
| XXVIII.— | As Bederhof arranged | [363] |
| LIST OF ILLUSTRATIONS | |
|---|---|
| FACING PAGE | |
| "I'm not a king for my own pleasure" | [Frontispiece] |
| Hammerfeldt came to me and kissed my hand | [43] |
| The firelight played on the hand that held the screen | [102] |
| "My ransom," said I. "The price of my freedom" | [148] |
| "On my honour, a pure accident," said Varvilliers | [215] |
| "Why, what brings you here?" I cried | [262] |
| "My dear friend, have you forgotten me?" | [293] |
| "I'll try—I'll try to make you happy" | [342] |
THE KING'S MIRROR.
CHAPTER I.
A PIOUS HYPERBOLE.
Before my coronation there was no event in childhood that impressed itself on my memory with marked or singular distinction. My father's death, the result of a chill contracted during a hunting excursion, meant no more to me than a week of rooms gloomy and games forbidden; the decease of King Augustin, my uncle, appeared at the first instant of even less importance. I recollect the news coming. The King, having been always in frail health, had never married; seeing clearly but not far, he was a sad man: the fate that struck down his brother increased his natural melancholy; he became almost a recluse, withdrew himself from the capital to a retired residence, and henceforward was little more than a name in which Prince von Hammerfeldt conducted the business of the country. Now and then my mother visited him; once she brought back to me a letter from him, little of which I understood then, although I have since read often the touching words of his message. When he died, there was the same gloom as when my father left us; but it seemed to me that I was treated a little differently; the servants stared at me, my mother would look long at me with a half-admiring, half-amused expression, and Victoria let me have all her toys. In Baroness von Krakenstein (or Krak, as we called her) alone, there was no difference; yet the explanation came from her, for when that evening I reached out my little hand and snatched a bit of cake from the dish, Krak caught my wrist, saying gravely,
"Kings must not snatch, Augustin."