tion. The Prince's death then might well be to them so great a calamity as to lose its rank among sorrows, regrets for the past be ousted by terror for the future, and the loss of an ally obliterate grief for a friend.
"But you know his wishes and his views," said my mother. "I hope that they will have an increased sacredness for you now."
"He may be looking down on you from heaven," added Victoria, folding her handkerchief so as to get a dry part uppermost.
I could not resist this provocation: I smiled. "If it is so, Victoria," I remarked, "nobody will be more surprised than the Prince himself."
Victoria was very much offended. She conceived herself to have added an effective touch: I ridiculed her.
"You might at least pretend to have a little decent feeling," she cried.
"Come, come, my dear, don't let's squabble over him before he's cold," said I, rising. "Have you anything else to say to me, mother?"
At this instant my brother-in-law entered. He smelt very strongly of tobacco, but wore an expression of premeditated misery. He came up to me, holding out his hand.
"Good evening," said I.
"Poor Hammerfeldt!" he murmured. "Poor Hammerfeldt! What a blow! How lost you must feel!"
He had been talking over the matter with Victoria. That was beyond doubt.
"I happen to have been thinking," I rejoined, "more of him than of myself."
"Of course, of course," muttered William Adol-
