“She didn’t hit half hard enough.”  I said.  “She should have knocked me down.”

He shook his head.  “She misunderstood the whole matter.  I forgot she, doubtless, knows nothing of the American branch of the House; so, my calling you cousin conveyed no meaning, if indeed she even heard it.  She simply thought you a presumptuous stranger.”

“And so I am.”

He waved the idea aside.  “You are her nearest male relative after myself.”

“That may mitigate my presumption—­but, none the less, I’m a stranger.”

“No Dalberg is stranger to a Dalberg, and least of all in the presence of the Dalberg King,” he said.  Then the smile came again.  “But, by the Lord, sir, I admire your pluck—­to kiss the Princess Royal of Valeria before her father’s very face.”

“It wasn’t pluck,” I protested.  “It was rank ignorance.  I was at a loss what greeting was proper;” and I explained my perplexity.

“Of course,” he said kindly, but with a shrewd twinkle in his blue eyes, “I understand.  Only, I fancy it would be wiser that I make your excuses to your cousin.  For, believe me, my dear Major, for one in such doubt you kissed her with amazing promptness.”

This time Courtney laughed aloud and the King and I joined him.

“Then you think I may venture, sometime, to speak to her without renewed offence?” I asked presently, as we were about to retire.

“Assuredly,” said the King.  “When you meet her again to-night act as though you had known her always.  I’ll answer for it, she will not respond with a blow.”

Just at the door he called to me.

“Major,” he said, “which would be your preference:  to be introduced to-night as one of the Blood, or to hold off a while and continue your duties as American Attache?”

I had had this very matter in my mind a moment before.  “With Your Majesty’s permission I will execute my orders—­at least, for the present,” I said.

“I think that were the proper course under the circumstances.  Meanwhile, we will provide that you have the entree, and as many prerogatives of your birth as are properly consistent with conditions.”

Without, a chamberlain awaited to conduct us to the Hall of the Kings, where the birthday ball was to be held.

V

THE SALUTE OF A FRIEND

One Court function is pretty much like another, Europe over.  There is the same sparkle of jewels and shimmer of silk on aristocratic woman; the same clank of spur and rattle of sword and brilliancy of uniform on official man.

Courtney had long ago become familiar with it all, and I in my details and travels had seen enough to make me indifferently easy, at least.  We had tarried overtime with the King, and, so, were the last to reach the Hall.  At the door Cosgrove joined us and under his guidance we made our way to the diplomatic line.  Scarcely were we there when His Majesty and the Princess Royal were announced and between the ranks of bowing guests they passed to the throne.  As Frederick stepped upon the dais there arose spontaneously the shout, thrice repeated: