Bernheim smiled sourly, when I had ended.

“You may have good use, sir, for that trick of fence,” he said.  “Lotzen means mischief and that promptly.”

“Evidently, his visit with His Majesty and the Princess was not to his satisfaction,” Moore remarked; “and, if Your Highness can ascertain just what did occur there, I’ll wager it will account for his conduct to-day.”

“And it would be just as well for Your Highness to wear a steel vest,” said Bernheim; “it’s very handy to turn a knife or a revolver bullet.”

I laughed, “Of course, steel vests are such ordinary articles of attire they can be purchased in any shop.”

“I’ll supply the vest,” he answered, “if Your Highness will use it.”

“It seems absurd,” I declared.

“It’s a wise precaution, sir,” Moore urged.

“One might suppose we were back in the days or the Guises,” I said.  “However, bring your coat of mail around to-night and I’ll look it over.  But, I warn you, it will have to be a very snug fit.”

“I will answer for that, also,” said Bernheim.

Later in the afternoon, I rode over to the Field of Mars—­a huge piece of ground on the Lake front—­for the evening parade of the Cuirassiers of the Guard.  This was their one hundred and fiftieth anniversary, and on every one of them it had been the unbroken custom for the then governor of Dornlitz to be present and pass the Regiment in Review—­saving, of course, in war-time, when it chanced to be in active service in the field.

The crowd of spectators was enormous.  The Valerians seem to have a genuine love for their Army—­largely, I fancy, because the Army is not permitted to tyrannize over the citizen.  Because a man wore the King’s uniform gave him no privilege to insult or to maltreat those who did not; and conferred no immunity from proper and adequate punishment if he did.  The Dalberg principle is similar to the American; that the Army is the guardian of the civilian, not his oppressor; and that its business is to protect not to browbeat.  For generations, it has been instilled into the Valerian soldier that his uniform could be smirched only by himself—­and stern, indeed, was the judgment of him who ventured to think and do otherwise.  For an officer to strike a civilian without just cause meant to be cashiered; and to kill one, save as justified by the civil law, meant to be hung as a common felon.  I had seen enough of the other Continental Armies to be very proud of the Army of Valeria.

It was a pretty sight—­the long line of white uniformed Cuirassiers in burnished corselets and black-plumed helmets; with the Lake for a background, and rank on rank of spectators on either side.  In front, were the carriages of the Aristocracy of the Capital; and, as I galloped down to take post after the review, I could not but wonder how many of all that crowd regarded me with a friendly eye.  Behind me clattered a brilliant Staff, and in my hand was the Baton of a Marshal, yet, never in my life, had I felt so utterly alone as at that moment.  And Lotzen’s recent sneer, that I could hope to hold the Crown only if the Princess Dehra were my Queen, struck me in all its truth.  Surely, it was the climax of absurdity for me to aspire to rule this people, to whom I was a stranger and in whose eyes I would be, in effect, a pure usurper.