"Well, it was romantic in a way," he proceeded, glad to have a listener, as old men are; "there's always a certain amount of romance about the court of a reigning queen. Of course you know that the Salic law did not prevail in the kingdom of Aquazilia when it was a kingdom. Yes, it was a splendid court was that of Valoro when Her Majesty Inez the Second reigned over it. I just remember it thirty-five years ago when I went out to it as a young attaché on one of my first appointments and took such a fancy to the lovely country."
"Then it is lovely," I ventured; "the reports of it are not exaggerations?"
Old Sir Rupert replied almost with emotion—
"It is superb. It is the loveliest country in the world!"
"In those days I am speaking of," he proceeded, "Valoro was a place worth living in. In many respects it outshone some of the courts of Europe, with which, by the bye, it was in close contact. Queen Inez, as you no doubt know, was a Princess of Istria; the royal line of Aquazilia was simply a collateral branch of the great Imperial House of Dolphberg. And there were those that said that Queen Inez despite all her resistance of the many endeavours to induce her to enter the married state—and her offers had been abundant—was not only a queen and a rich one, but she was also a very beautiful woman."
"Your account of Queen Inez, Sir Rupert, is absolutely fascinating," I said. "I am almost inclined to fall in love with her. Where is she now?"
The old man paused and a sad look came over his face.
"She is dead, poor woman," he answered sadly; "they say she died of a broken heart."
"At losing the throne?" I queried.
"I don't know, I'm sure," he said slowly, throwing away the end of his cigar. "Some say she was glad to get rid of the responsibilities of it, and quite content to retire to a castle she had in Switzerland not far from the Lake of Lucerne. She was a woman of very simple tastes."