The Princess Virginia

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Williamson Charles Norris. The Princess Virginia

CHAPTER I. WHEN THE NEWS CAME

CHAPTER II. FOUR GENTLEMEN OF IMPORTANCE

CHAPTER III. A CHAMOIS HUNTER

CHAPTER IV. THE EAGLE’S EYRIE

CHAPTER V. LEO VERSUS LEOPOLD

CHAPTER VI. NOT IN THE PROGRAM

CHAPTER VII. THE HONORS OF THE DAY

CHAPTER VIII. THE EMPEROR’S BALL

CHAPTER IX. IRON HEART AT HOME

CHAPTER X. VIRGINIA’S GREAT MOMENT

CHAPTER XI. THE MAN WHO WAITED

CHAPTER XII “THE EMPEROR WILL UNDERSTAND”

CHAPTER XIII. THE MAGIC CITRON

CHAPTER XIV. THE EMPEROR AT BAY

CHAPTER XV. THROUGH THE TELEPHONE

CHAPTER XVI. TRUTH ACCORDING TO THE CHANCELLOR

CHAPTER XVII. THE OLDNESS OF THE CHANCELLOR

CHAPTER XVIII. NOT AT HOME

CHAPTER XIX. THE THIRD COURSE

CHAPTER XX. AFTER THE CURTAIN WENT DOWN

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Twilight fell late in the tiny Rhaetian village of Alleheiligen. So high on the mountain side were perched the simple inn and the group of brown chalets clustering round the big church with its bulbous, Oriental spire, that they caught the last red rays of sunset and held them flashing on burnished copper roof plates, and jeweling small, bright window-panes long after the green valley below was curtained with shadow.

One September evening, two dusty traveling carriages toiled up the steep, winding road that led to the highest hamlet of the Rhaetian Alps, and a girl walking beside the foremost driver (minded, as he was, to save the jaded horses) looked up to see Alleheiligen glittering like a necklet of gems on the brown throat of the mountain. Each window was a great, separate ruby set in gold; the copper bulb that crowned the church steeple was a burning carbuncle; while above the flashing band of gorgeous color, the mountain reared its head, facing westward, its steadfast features carved in stone, the brow snow-capped and rosy where the sun touched it, blue where the shadows lay.

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“Oh yes, the Emperor has been at our hut several times. He’s good enough to approve it.” Her host answered calmly, laying a loaf of black bread, a fine seeded cheese, and a knuckle of ham on the table. He then glanced at his guest, expecting her to come forward; but she sat still on her throne of antlers, her small feet in their sensible mountain boots, daintily crossed under the short tweed skirt.

“I hear he also is a good chamois hunter,” she carelessly went on. “But that, perhaps, is only the flattery which makes the atmosphere of Royalty. No doubt you, for instance, could really give him many points in chamois hunting?”

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