"How could this man pass as Prince Boris? Except in size you are as unlike as two men can be. Where could he go to play prince where the imposture would not be immediately discovered and exposed?"

"My hunting lodge," cried Boris. "It's just the place."

"But, Dimmie," expostulated Ivan, "within the week you will receive his majesty's commands to proceed to Demia, for the purpose of paying court to the future crown princess of Karlova-I have had the information in a letter from my father."

"Good!" exclaimed Boris. "Now I am unalterably decided, and a setting is provided where our friend here may play prince to his heart's content and do me a good turn into the bargain."

"What do you mean?" asked Nicholas.

"I mean," replied Boris, "that I shall send The Rider to Demia to pay court to the Princess Mary of Margoth.

The three guardsmen gasped.

"You are my best friends," continued Boris. "A thousand times have you sworn that you would willingly lay down your lives for me. Now I shall discover how sincere were your protestations of fidelity. I do not wish to marry, yet; and most certainly I do not wish to marry a scrawny-necked, watery-eyed Margoth princess. If she refuses me, I shall be saved; and our friend here can see to it that she refuses. Should she accept him," and Boris could not restrain a grin of amusement, "I shall still be saved, since she will be married to another."

"But Dimmie," cried Alexander, seriously, "you cannot mean to carry your hoax as far as that! It would mean war, Dimmie."

"And which of you would not prefer war with Margoth?" asked Boris.

The others were silent. Prince Boris had spoken the truth, for the military party of Karlova had for long sought to foment trouble between the two countries. The crown prince, to whom they looked for guidance, had counselled temperance, and though the acknowledged head of the war party he had been the strongest advocate of peace with Margoth. Now, however, that a distasteful marriage was to be thrust upon him he was quite willing to go to any lengths, though the principal appeal of the adventure lay in its levity.

Chapter FIVE

THE city of Demia was draped with bunting. The flags of Karlova and Margoth floated from a thousand windows and balconies. They were suspended across the main thoroughfares upon ropes of flowers. The colors of Karlova were twined with those of Margoth upon the coats of the men of Margoth and in the dark hair of the women; yet, notwithstanding these outward symbols of rejoicing, the hearts of the Margothians were heavy, for today a Karlovian prince was coming to pay court to their beloved princess, Mary of Margoth.

In the palace of the king the object of their devotion stamped back and forth the length of her boudoir. Her little hands were flying in excited gestures as she stormed vehemently to the sympathetic ear of her audience of one. Faithful Carlotta shared her mistress's aversion to the thought of the impending calamity.

"I won't! I won't! I won't!" cried Mary. "I'll -I'll die first. I won't marry a hideous, hateful Karlovian. I don't care if I am a princess. It isn't my fault; and I don't want to be one, anyway."

"My dear child," and Carlotta's voice was choked with sobs; "if poor old Carlotta could only help you! But there is no help. You were born to the purple, and you must accept the responsibilities of the purple; and, too, dear, you may find that Prince Boris is not entirely impossible-even though he be a Karlovian. He "

"Carlotta!" interrupted the Princess Mary, clapping her palms together. "I have it!"

"Have what?" asked Carlotta.

"Never mind what I have; but I have it; and, Carlotta, pay no attention to anything that I may say or do while Prince Boris is present. Do you understand?"

There was a blare of trumpets from far down the broad avenue which leads up to the palace.

"He is coming!" cried Carlotta.

"But he won't stay long," said Princess Mary, with a shrug and a girlish giggle.

In the uniform of colonel of The Black Guard, and attended only by three officers of that famous regiment, came Boris, Prince of Karlova to the court of Alexis III. Between lines of royal troops, down a flower-strewn boulevard he rode in the French limousine which had brought him along the Roman road from Sovgrad to Demia. Prince Stroebel, Prime Minister of Margoth had met him at the city gates, and now sat beside him. The crown prince of Karlova seemed ill at ease. He played with the sword knot upon the hilt of the jeweled weapon at his side. He cast apprehensive glances at the long line of soldiery, standing with arms at the present along either hand.