"But there is so little to tell. His father had married the Grand Duke of Noumaria's daughter,—over yonder between Silesia and Badenburg, you may remember. And so last spring when the Grand Duke and the Prince were both killed in that horrible fire, my friend quite unexpectedly became a king—oh, king of a mere celery-patch, but still a sort of king. Figure to yourself, Nelchen! they were going to make my poor friend marry the Elector of Badenburg's daughter,—and Victoria von Uhm has perfection stamped upon her face in all its odious immaculacy,—and force him to devote the rest of his existence to heading processions and reviewing troops, and signing proclamations, and guzzling beer and sauerkraut. Why, he would have been like Ovid among the Goths, my Nelchen!"
"But he could have worn such splendid uniforms!" said Nelchen. "And diamonds!"
"You mercenary wretch!" said he. Louis Quillan then did what seemed advisable; and presently he added, "In any event, the horrified man ran away."
"That was silly of him," said Nelchen Thorn. "But where did he run to?"
Louis Quillan considered. "To Paradise," he at last decided. "And there he found a disengaged angel, who very imprudently lowered herself to the point of marrying him. And so he lived happily ever afterward. And so, till the day of his death, he preached the doctrine that silliness is the supreme wisdom."
"And he regretted nothing?" Nelchen said, after a meditative while.
Louis Quillan began to laugh. "Oh, yes! at times he profoundly regretted
Victoria von Uhm."
Then Nelchen gave him a surprise, for the girl bent toward him and leaned one hand upon each shoulder. "Diamonds are not all, are they, Louis? I thank you, dear, for telling me of what means so much to you. I can understand, I think, because for a long while I have tried to know and care for everything that concerns you."
The little man had risen to his feet. "Nelchen—!"
"Hush!" said Nelchen Thorn; "Monseigneur is coming down to his supper."