CHAPTER XIX.
A MIDNIGHT COUNCIL.
While blood was being shed on the banks of the Theiss, on the slopes of the Carpathians, and in the mountains of Transylvania, life at the Austrian capital went on much as usual.

A grand ball given by the Marchioness Caldariva made its due claim on the attention of the fashionable world.

After the last note of the orchestra had died away and the last guest had departed, Prince Cagliari led the fair hostess to her boudoir.
"How did it please you ?" asked the prince, referring to the evening's entertainment.
"Not at all," replied the other, throwing her bracelets and fan down on the table.

"Didn't you notice that not one member of the court circle was present?
They all sent regrets." "But the court is in mourning now, you know," was Cagliari's soothing reminder.
"And I am in mourning, too," returned Rozina, in a passion.

"How long must I submit to this humiliation ?" she demanded, compressing her lips and darting a wrathful look at her devoted slave.
"I swear to you," replied the latter, vehemently, "as soon as I get word of my divorced wife's death, our engagement shall be announced." "And how long is that woman to live ?" demanded the angry beauty, in a tone that startled the listener.
"As long as God wills," was all he could say in reply.
The fair Cyrene drew nearer and laid her cheek caressingly against his shoulder.