to depart, and he took my hand between his hands, then looked at me earnestly and said: Tomorrow I shall meet the counselors; I shall tell them of this intention of mine, and if they refuse to let me remain on the throne, I shall give it up with an entirely willing heart.

And I burst out weeping; the mere thought of it was madness. And I fell to upbraiding myself for my delay; I ought to have left London before then, and avoided the occurrence of these troubles. I asked myself what had prevented me, and the answer was always one: a woman's inability to resist the wish of the man she loves.

On the morning of Monday, November 16, I returned to my house downcast, and when dinner-time drew near David telephoned me and told me he had tried to consult the responsible men in our case, and so far no progress whatever had been made!...

When I met David in London my aunt was with me; and there was a new proposal concerning our marriage: that the King remain on his throne, but that the foreign wife not become queen... But the Council rejected the idea entirely; it had been legally abolished a century before...

The days that followed were among the drowsiest, dreariest moments of my life; it was as if the news had passed to people's tongues, and they took to following my steps. Eyes were posted about my house; my aunt never once looked from behind the window curtains without seeing the passers-by on the pavement stop and stare.

Nor was that all: letters began reaching me from various quar-ters, some bearing stinging criti-cism, others bearing threats and menaces; this was the first trial of its kind I had passed through in my life, and I do not deny that it was a very cruel trial. I began to feel that I was a hunted animal,

and what added to the tightness in my breast was my thinking of the fate to which David would come; I did not wish to burden him fur-ther, so I kept silent, grudgingly... But he learned of a rumor to the effect that a band of conspirators intended to blow up my house.

And on Friday morning, the Council being in session, David sent me a letter in his own hand, warning me, and inviting me, with Aunt Bessie, to leave London at once; and he advised me to take refuge in the castle, where no one would dare approach; and he added that he would pass by that afternoon and carry us off in his car, provided the servants knew nothing of it.

And at six that evening David came as he had promised, and as I let my gaze wander over the lights of London behind us, I did not know that I would not see them again for three years.

Even the atmosphere of the castle was no longer the one I had known for years: the servants' faces were sullen, and silence hung over every corner... and David was summoned every other moment to answer telephone calls... He could no longer hide from me how critical the political situation had become; and on the Sunday afternoon of that week, he took me into the library and set about repeating in my hearing the opinions of the counselors and the men of the court; there was no hope whatever for our marriage... And I felt my resolve about to give way. My spirit was shattered before the struggle of this giant who was attempting the impossi-ble for my sake... And his thinking led him toward doing anything to win public opinion throughout the whole Empire; he thought of broadcasting the story of our love, to win by it the sympathy of the people... but he had to obtain the Council's consent before venturing upon that.

Throughout all this I was staying at the castle with Aunt "Bessie"... And on January 2, David returned from London to take dinner at the castle, and I had no need to ask him what had happened, for the marks of pain and anger drawn upon his face told me. He men-tioned nothing in front of my aunt, but he told everything when we were alone in the castle garden... He told me that all the efforts had gone for nothing, and that only one of two roads remained before him: either to sacrifice me and remain on the throne, or to sacri-fice the throne to marry me; and he was not prepared to give me up at any price... But I could never consent to his abdication. His place was upon the throne, and at the head of his people... And he did not hear my words; he was far away from me; and I resolved to take the reins of the matter into my own hands, so far as I could.

And after a moment's silence I said to him firmly: I must go, David; I must go out of your life. I should have done this long ago, but there is still time, and no power shall keep me from carrying out my decision... And fortunately he did not argue with me; rather it seemed to me as though his burden had lightened, and he finished by saying: It is hard for me to let you go, but your staying is hard as well... especially as the press today has broken its promise of silence, and tomorrow our story will be on the tongues of high and low... So I think it better that you should leave...

And when I entered the castle I told my aunt what I had decided, and the news did not astonish her; it was as though she had known by instinct what had happened... And I awaited

the thunderbolt campaign in the morning; the morning papers poured down a sweeping flood of huge headlines, all of them criti-