Schwartz was far behind us when my father caught sight of the magical flowers.
'Come!' said he, glowing, 'we will toast the Hohenstaufens and the Hohenzollerns to-night, Richie.' Later, when I was revelling in fancies sweeter than the perfume of the roses, he pressed their stems reflectively, unbound them, and disclosed a slip of crested paper.

On it was written: 'Violets are over.' Plain words; but a princess had written them, and never did so golden a halo enclose any piece of human handiwork..