"I shall be sorry to leave Graustark," she said dreamily, after a long period of silent retrospection. "I've had the happiest year of my life here."
"I've had the busiest month of my life here. I'll never again say that the world is a dull place. And I'll never advise any man to go out of his own home city in search of the most adorable woman in the world. She's always there, bless her heart, if he'll only look around a bit for her."
"But you wouldn't have found me if you hadn't come to Graustark."
"I shudder when I think of what might have happened to you, my Princess Sweetheart, if I hadn't come to Edelweiss. No; I would not have found you." Feeling her tremble in his arms, he went on with whimsical good humour: "You would have been eaten up by the ogre long before this. Or, perhaps, you would have succeeded in becoming a countess."
"As it is, I shall be a baroness."
"In Graustark, but not in New York. That reminds me. You'll be more than a baroness—more than a princess. You will be a queen. Don't you catch the point? You will be Mrs. King."
The Grand Duke Paulus was distinctly annoyed. He had travelled many miles, endured quite a number of hardships, and all to no purpose. When dawn came, his emissaries returned from the city with the lamentable information that the government had righted itself, that Marlanx's sensational revolution was at an end, and that the regents would be highly honoured if his Excellency could overlook the distressingly chaotic conditions at court and condescend to pay the Castle a visit. The regents, the Prince and the citizens of Graustark desired the opportunity to express their gratitude for the manner in which he had voluntarily (and unexpectedly) come to their assistance in time of trouble. The fact that he had come too late to render the invaluable aid he so nobly intended did not in the least minimise the volume of gratefulness they felt.
The Grand Duke admitted that he was at sea, diplomatically. He was a fifth wheel, so to speak, now that the revolution was over. Not so much as the tip of his finger had he been able to get into the coveted pie. There was nothing for him to do but to turn round with his five thousand Cossacks and march disconsolately across the steppes to an Imperial railroad, where he could embark for home. However, he would visit the Castle in a very informal way, extend his congratulations, offer his services—which he knew would be declined with thanks—and profess his unbounded joy in the discovery that Graustark happily was so able to take care of herself. Incidentally, he would mention the bond issue; also, he would find the opportunity to suggest to the ministry that his government still was willing to make large grants and stupendous promises if any sort of an arrangement could be made by which the system might be operated in conjunction with branch lines of the Imperial roads.
And so it was that at noon he rode in pomp and splendour through the city gates, attended by his staff and a rather overpowering body-guard. His excuse for the early call was delicately worded. He said in his reply to the message from the Count that it would give him great pleasure to remain for some time at the Castle, were it not for the fact that he had left his own province in a serious state of unrest; it was imperative that he should return in advance of the ever-possible and always popular uprising. Therefore he would pay his respects to his serene Highness, renew his protestations of friendship, extend his felicitations, and beg leave to depart for his own land without delay.