"His Excellency the Honorable Richard Courtney, the newly accredited American Ambassador, is expected to arrive to-day. He is accompanied by Major Dalberg, the Military Attaché. His Majesty has ordered his Aide-de-Camp, Colonel Bernheim, to invite them to the Birthday Ball to-night; where they will be honored by a special presentation."
Courtney read it carefully. "At last I see the simple truth in a daily paper," he commented. "But, as for you, my friend, button your coat well over your heart for it's in for a hard thump tonight."
"So?" said I.
"There won't be so much indifference after you've met Her and—seen a certain picture in the Corridor of Kings," he retorted, with a superior smile.
"Think not?" said I, with another yawn. "What if I've done both years ago?"
He eyed me sharply. "It's foolish to bluff when a show-down is certain," he said.
"So one learns in the army."
"Of course not every hand needs to bluff," he said slowly.
"No—not every hand," I agreed.
He went over to the door. On the threshold he turned.
"I wonder if this is my laugh, or yours, to-night," he said.
"We will laugh together," I answered.
Then he went out.
I would have been rather a wooden sort of individual had I felt no stir in my heart as, for the first time, I entered the Castle of my ancestors and stood in the ante-chamber waiting to be presented to the Head of my House. I believe I am as phlegmatic as most men, but I would give very little for one who, under like conditions, would not feel a press of emotion. I know it came to me with sharp intensity,—and I see no shame in the admission; nor will any one else whose heart is the heart of an honest man. I have no patience with those creatures who deride sentiment. They are either liars or idiots. Religion, itself, is sentimental; and so is every refined instinct of our lives. Destroy the sentimental in man and the brute alone remains.
We waited but a moment and then were ushered into the royal presence. The greeting was entirely informal. Courtney was no stranger to Valeria, and had met the King frequently during the last ten years. Frederick came forward and shook his hand most cordially and welcomed him to Court. It was like the meeting of two friends. During it I had time to observe the King.
He wore the green uniform of a General, with the Jewel of the Order of the Lion around his neck. His sixty odd years sat very lightly and left no mark save in the facial wrinkles and grey hair. He was a true Dalberg in height and general appearance, and with the strong, straight nose that was as distinctive to our family as was the beak to the Bourbons.
I had remained in the background during Courtney's greeting, but, when he turned and presented me, I advanced and bowed. As I straightened, the King extended his hand saying:
"We are glad to———"
Then he caught a full view of my face and stopped, staring. I dropped his hand and stepped back; and, for a space, no one moved. Only, I shot a side glance at Courtney and caught a half smile on his lips. Then Frederick recovered himself.
"Your pardon, sir, but I did not catch the name," he said.
Courtney's finesse saved me the embarrassment of a self-introduction.
"Major Dalberg, of the United States Army, Your Majesty," he said quickly. "The representative of our War Department with your army."
"Dalberg—Dalberg," he muttered; then added, perfunctorily: "Our army is at your service, sir, though I fear we shall be unable to give you the war."
"The army is quite enough, Sire," I began; but it was plain he did not hear me. He was studying my face again and thinking. Courtney, I could see, was having the finest sort of sport. I could have throttled him.
"You have our name, Major," said the King. "May I ask if it is a common one in America?"
"I know of no family but my own that bears it, there," I answered.
He sat down and motioned for us to do likewise.
"I am interested," said he. "Has your family been long in America?"
"Since the year 1777."
He leaned a bit forward. "That was during your Revolutionary War."
"Yes, Your Majesty. It was that year Lafayette joined Washington's Army." That will give him a surprise, I thought.
It did.
"Do you know the name of the Dalberg of 1777?" he asked quickly.
I saw no profit in evasion. "He was Hugo, second son of Henry the Third of Valeria," I replied.
"I knew it," he exclaimed, jumping up and coming over to me. "And you are?"
"His great-grandson and eldest male heir."
"Then, as such, I salute you, cousin," he said, and suddenly kissed me on the cheek.
Were you ever kissed by a man? If so, and you are a woman, it doubtless was pleasant enough, and, maybe, not unusual; but if you are a man, it will surprise you mightily the first time.
Of course, I understood all the significance of Frederick's action. Royalty on the Continent so greets only royalty or relatives. It meant I was accepted as one of the Blood and a Prince of my House. I admit my pride was stirred.
"Your Majesty overwhelms me," I said, bowing again. "I expected no recognition. I am entitled to none. Our name was stricken from the Family Roll."
He made a deprecating gesture. "Don't let that disturb you, cousin."
"And believe me, also, I had no intention to disclose my relationship," I protested.
The King laughed. "You could not hide it with that face," he said.
I must have flushed, for he exclaimed: "Ha! You know that, do you?"
For answer I drew out the miniature of old Henry, which I had brought hoping for an opportunity to compare it with the original, and handed it to him.
He gave it a quick glance and nodded. "Yes, that went with Hugo," he said.
I was surprised and looked it.
"Oh, the family records are very complete as to the affair of your headstrong ancestor," he explained. "Old Henry himself set it all out in his journal; and he speaks of this very miniature as having been given to Hugo by his mother, the day he left Dornlitz. There were two of them, copied from the portrait in the Corridor." He crossed to a cabinet. "And here is the other one," he said.
I glanced at Courtney. He threw up his hands in defeat; at the same time, however, signifying that I should press my advantage while the King was so well disposed.
But I shook my head. My descent had been acknowledged, and that was quite enough—more than enough, indeed. I had come to Valeria as a Major in the American Army. I sought no favors from the Dalbergs here. From which it would seem that a bit of Hugo's stubborn independence had come down to me. As for Courtney, the shrug of his shoulders was very eloquent of what he thought of such independence.
"Perchance you never heard of a certain letter dispatched to Hugo by his brother, Frederick, after Henry's death?" the King asked.
"And delivered by his Ambassador," I supplemented.
"The same. Hugo, too, seems to have kept a journal."
"He kept the letter itself, and a copy of his answer," I added.
The King laughed. "Altogether, Hugo must have been a rare fine fellow, with a mind of his own."
"He was a son of Henry the Third," I answered.
The King nodded. "Yet 'twas a pity he did not accept Frederick's offer."
"I fancy the new life was more to his mind."
"Doubtless,—but, had he returned, it would be you and not Ferdinand of Lotzen who would be the Heir Presumptive of Valeria."
I smiled. "Had he returned I would not be I."
"True enough," said he. "But think of the crown of your ancestors that might be yours."
"It is enough to be a Dalberg. I have never thought of the crown," I answered.
"There spoke the son of Hugo," he said.
Then, suddenly, he seemed to remember that we were not alone, and, springing up, he sought out Courtney, who, though unable to get out of ear-shot, had courteously retired to the remotest corner of the room.
"My dear Courtney," he exclaimed. "I have been unpardonably rude. I forgot you completely. Yet, you brought it on yourself; you should have prepared me for my cousin."
But Courtney had his part to play. He must keep the American Ambassador free from fault.
"Major Dalberg never disclosed his relationship to your Majesty," he said, formally; "else, as you are well aware, he could not have been given the detail without your express permission. As it is, I shall be obliged to report the matter to my Government and——"
"Do so, by all means, if it will keep your records clear," the King cut in, in the same formal tone; "but be careful, at the same time, to say to your State Department that we shall deem it a personal affront if our Kinsman be recalled. And, now, sir," he went on with an amused smile and dropping the conventional air, "confess it. Didn't you suspect the relationship?"
"I have been a guest at the Court of Valeria too often not to have noted a certain resemblance," Courtney admitted readily. Then, like a good fellow, he set me right. "But, be assured, Your Majesty, not I nor I believe anyone, has ever heard Major Dalberg speak of his royal descent; though I admit I have tried hard to draw him to it."
The King looked at me and nodded in approval.
"It is a law of the family, laid down by Hugo himself," I explained. "Though, of course, our silence does not prevent anyone from proving the fact who investigates our genealogy," and I glanced significantly at Courtney.
This time it was he who doubled his fist at me.
Then a door behind me opened and I heard the trail of a gown—whose, it was easy to guess. Only one woman could have the privilege of entering the King's presence unbidden.
As Courtney and I arose and stepped back, the Princess halted uncertainly.
"Come, Dehra," said the King. "You know the American Ambassador."
Courtney bowed, but the Princess held out her hand, saying cordially:
"We are glad to welcome Mr. Courtney here as a resident."
Courtney made some fitting reply,—there was always one on the end of his tongue. And then the King turned to me.
"Major Dalberg," he said, "salute your cousin."
I do not know which cousin was the more startled, but I am quite sure which was the more embarrassed. In truth, for a moment, I was too confused to move. The one thought that kept pounding through my brain was: "What am I expected to do?" Frederick had saluted me with a kiss; was it possible he meant me to kiss Dehra! I glanced across at Courtney,—he was struggling to suppress his merriment,—then back at the Princess; and caught what I was fool enough to imagine was a look of glad surprise. She had recognized and remembered me.
That settled it. I stepped forward and deliberately kissed her on the cheek.
The next instant my mouth stung with the blow of an open hand, and I was looking down into the flashing eyes and flaming face of the Princess.
It was quite evident I had not been expected to kiss her.
"Sir!" she exclaimed. "Sir!" And with each word she seemed to strike me afresh. Then words failed her, and with another gesture of disdain she gave me her back.
"Your Majesty, who is this——?" she began.
Then she stopped and I heard her catch her breath. The next moment, with high-held head she swept by me and from the room. And with her going crumbled all the bright castles I had builded on the memories of that ride in the forest, six years before.
Of course I had been a silly fool. The fiend himself must have possessed me. But I had kissed her, and that was something to remember,—though, doubtless, that itself but proved me the greater idiot. All this and much more whirled through my mind in the moment of the Princess's leaving; then I turned, expecting to face the scorn of the King,—and found him wiping the tears from his eyes and shaking with laughter.
So this was what had seat Dehra from the room in anger. And, straightway, the skies brightened. Plainly, if her father were not offended, I might yet make my peace with her.
Then I, too, began to smile. Doubtless there was a funny side to it; though it seemed to be more evident to the spectators than to me. At any rate, the King still laughed, and so did Courtney; though quietly and discreetly. His, I admit, I did not relish; so I spoke.
"I am very sorry, Your Majesty; I meant no offence——" I began.
"Nonsense, Major," the King interrupted. "You gave none."
"Indeed!" I said, and rubbed my mouth.
"Oh, don't hold that against the Princess," he chuckled.
"She didn't hit half hard enough." I said. "She should have knocked me down."
He shook his head. "She misunderstood the whole matter. I forgot she, doubtless, knows nothing of the American branch of the House; so, my calling you cousin conveyed no meaning, if indeed she even heard it. She simply thought you a presumptuous stranger."
"And so I am."
He waved the idea aside. "You are her nearest male relative after myself."
"That may mitigate my presumption—but, none the less, I'm a stranger."
"No Dalberg is stranger to a Dalberg, and least of all in the presence of the Dalberg King," he said. Then the smile came again. "But, by the Lord, sir, I admire your pluck—to kiss the Princess Royal of Valeria before her father's very face."
"It wasn't pluck," I protested. "It was rank ignorance. I was at a loss what greeting was proper;" and I explained my perplexity.
"Of course," he said kindly, but with a shrewd twinkle in his blue eyes, "I understand. Only, I fancy it would be wiser that I make your excuses to your cousin. For, believe me, my dear Major, for one in such doubt you kissed her with amazing promptness."
This time Courtney laughed aloud and the King and I joined him.
"Then you think I may venture, sometime, to speak to her without renewed offence?" I asked presently, as we were about to retire.
"Assuredly," said the King. "When you meet her again to-night act as though you had known her always. I'll answer for it, she will not respond with a blow."
Just at the door he called to me.
"Major," he said, "which would be your preference: to be introduced to-night as one of the Blood, or to hold off a while and continue your duties as American Attaché?"
I had had this very matter in my mind a moment before. "With Your Majesty's permission I will execute my orders—at least, for the present," I said.
"I think that were the proper course under the circumstances. Meanwhile, we will provide that you have the entrée, and as many prerogatives of your birth as are properly consistent with conditions."
Without, a chamberlain awaited to conduct us to the Hall of the Kings, where the birthday ball was to be held.
One Court function is pretty much like another, Europe over. There is the same sparkle of jewels and shimmer of silk on aristocratic woman; the same clank of spur and rattle of sword and brilliancy of uniform on official man.
Courtney had long ago become familiar with it all, and I in my details and travels had seen enough to make me indifferently easy, at least. We had tarried overtime with the King, and, so, were the last to reach the Hall. At the door Cosgrove joined us and under his guidance we made our way to the diplomatic line. Scarcely were we there when His Majesty and the Princess Royal were announced and between the ranks of bowing guests they passed to the throne. As Frederick stepped upon the dais there arose spontaneously the shout, thrice repeated:
"Long live the King!"
And then someone cried:—
"Long live Dalberg!" And the throng joined in it twice again.
How the King acknowledged it I do not know. My whole attention was given to the Princess. It was my first good view of her since the day I had acted as substitute groom. For the bad few minutes lately passed had been given over to labial and mental sensations to the exclusion of the ocular. Now I had more leisure while those ranking and senior to Courtney made their felicitations upon the royal birthday.
She was little changed from my lady of the forest; only a bit more roundness to the figure and maturity in the face, particularly about the set of the mouth when in repose. Otherwise, she was the same charming woman who had smiled me into subjection six years before. Beautiful? Of course; but do not ask me for description, other than that she was medium in height, willowy in figure and dark blonde in type. With that outline your imagination must fill in the rest. Words only caricature a glorious woman.
When it came our turn, the King seemed to make it a point to greet me with marked cordiality; not waiting for my name to be announced, but stepping over to the edge of the dais to meet me and holding me in conversation an unusual time. It was noticed to the Court that I had the royal favor.
Then, with the quiet aside: "It's all explained," he passed me over to the Princess.
She was talking with Courtney, and turned and met me with a smile.
"Let us shake hands and be friends, cousin," she said.
The graciousness of the gesture, was plain enough to the whole room, but the words reached only Courtney and me.
"I don't deserve it—cousin," I said; but I took her hand, none the less.
Then, after a word more, we gave place to those that followed us. But, as I bowed away, she said low: "The sixth dance, cousin."
And so I knew my peace was made.
I looked for some banter from Courtney, but there was none; only a bit of a smile under the grey moustache. What he said was:
"Come, let us circle the room and see whom we know."
"We know none, if I'm to do the knowing," I said.
"Queer state of affairs," he reflected; "the true Heir Presumptive, yet a stranger in the Court."
"Oh! drop that nonsense," I said.
His hand went up to his imperial. "Nonsense? Well, maybe so,—and there's the pity of it."
I laughed. "My dear fellow," I said, "you are becoming sentimental, and without even the excuse of a pretty woman in the case."
He faced toward the throne. "You don't act like a blind man," he said.
"I can see the Princess very clearly, but only with Major Dalberg's eyes," I replied.
"But if you were proclaimed the——"
I cut him short. "I am too old for rainbow-chasing, and Spanish Castles don't become an ambassador."
"There you are wrong, my dear Major; diplomacy deals inchateaux en Espagne. It has builded many upon weaker foundations than this one, that have, in time, become substantial and lasting."
"Then, it's a good thing that we army fellows are called upon, occasionally, to tumble a few of them about your diplomatic ears."
He laughed. "You poor military men don't know it's only the phantom castles you tumble. We never give you a chance at any others."
"So I've been a Don Quixote all these years and didn't know it?"
"About that!"
"And that warrants you in sending me to tilt against this foolish heir-presumptive windmill."
"But if it were to prove no windmill?"
"Surely," I said—"Surely, you are not serious?"
He gave me one of his quick glances and his hand went back to his chin.
"'Quién sabe?' as the Spaniard would say, Major; 'Quién sabe?'" he replied.
"Don't be an ass, Courtney," I exclaimed. "And don't play me for one, either."
A lift of the eyebrows was his answer—but Courtney could say much that way.
"It's not a bad sort of occupation—being a King," he reflected.
I ignored him.
"And you could fill the place quite as well as Ferdinand of Lotzen," he went on.
"You will be offering presently to wager that I'll be the next King of Valeria," I scoffed.
"With the proper odds, I'd risk it."
"Name them."
"No—not yet," he said; "but I'll go you five thousand even, now, that you marry the Princess Royal."
"This court atmosphere seems to go to your head."
"That has nothing to do with the wager," he insisted.
"I'll not take you," I said. "The last fool bet is enough for me."
"I thought I heard someone say: 'The sixth dance, cousin.'"
"You did."
"And you call that a 'fool bet'?"
"I do,—and the more so that we were sober when we made it."
"You're a bit hard to please, lately," he mocked.
"I'm a bit easily led astray, lately, you mean," I retorted.
All this talk, as we made our way through the crowd, was interrupted at intervals while Courtney greeted those he knew and presented me. They were mainly of the diplomatic corps and, if they noted the coincidence of my name and Dalberg features, they were adepts enough not to show it. Not so, however, with some of the elderly Valerian dignitaries and army officers; they were very evidently surprised and curious,—and, very shortly, it was plain I was the object of their discussion and careful observation.
"How do you enjoy it?" Courtney inquired.
"You forget that this is not my first visit to Dornlitz," I answered.
"Some day I'd like to know of those other visits."
"There's nothing to know; they were like any other tourist's."
"Really, Major, you throw your opportunities away," he said, and I saw he did not believe me.
"What opportunities?" I asked.
He smiled. "Well, not those for prevarication, certainly."
"Isn't that a necessary qualification of a diplomatic attaché?" I said.
"Quite the most important,—and I don't doubt you will find it useful before you leave Valeria."
Then the band blared out into a waltz and the crowd drew away from the centre of the floor. I expected the real Heir Presumptive to lead out the Princess. I admit I was curious to see him. Report made him a very able young fellow, and his pictures showed a goodly figure. Instead, however, someone in a Colonel's uniform was her partner to open the dance. I turned to Courtney interrogatingly.
"It is Prince Charles, Lotzen's brother," he explained.
"And the Duke?" I asked.
"Still with the Army, I suppose."
Then the Princess swung by and, catching my eye, gave me a quick smile.
"Sort of a relief, isn't it?" Courtney remarked.
I nodded mechanically.
"Only I wouldn't tell her so," he said.
"Wouldn't tell her what?" I demanded.
"That you were relieved to know she could dance."
"I never doubted it," I said shortly.
He looked surprised. "Oh!" he remarked; "Oh!"—and fell to stroking his imperial.
"Courtney," said I, "you're a great fool—and I'm another."
"True, Major, quite true; I found that out long ago."
My irritation went down before his unfailing good nature. It was always so.
"Since we are unanimous on that point," I said, "I have no ground for quarrel."
I danced the next number with Lady Helen, the youngest daughter of Lord Radnor, the British Ambassador. We were old friends, after the modern fashion. I had met her in Washington some four or five years before, while on staff duty, and we had danced and dined ourselves into each other's regard. Then, Lord Radnor was transferred to Dornlitz and I went back into active service. So I had been altogether well pleased to find her with the Radnors when we chanced upon them during the stroll around the room, and I had engaged a pair of dances to give us a chance for a quiet little chat.
"Do you know, Major, for a stranger you are arousing extraordinary curiosity?" she remarked, as we sat on the terrace.
I smiled. "Yes, I believe I am."
She looked surprised. "So you have heard of it?"
"I knew it years ago."
"Oh, how stupid!" she exclaimed. "Of course, this is not your first visit to Dornlitz. Yet, it's a queer coincidence that you should have both the family name and the great Henry's features."
"Oh, no," said I; "not particularly queer, since I am his great-great-grandson."
She closed her fan with a snap. "His great-great-grandson!" she echoed.
I nodded.
"But I thought yours an old American family. Didn't you tell me, one day at Mount Vernon, that a Dalberg fought with Washington?"
It was my turn to be surprised. I had long forgotten both the circumstance and the remark. "And I told you truly enough," I answered.
She frowned a bit; then shook her head. "I cannot understand," she said.
Doubtless I was foolish—Courtney would have called it something stronger—but, nevertheless, I told her the story of Hugo. For the benefit of the scoffer let me say that the Lady Helen could be very fetching when she was so minded, and this was our first meeting in four years.
"How romantic!" she exclaimed, when I had finished my tale. "Father will be so interested."
I almost tumbled out of the chair. "Lord Radnor will not have the opportunity to be interested," I said sharply. "You may not tell him, nor anyone."
"Certainly not, if you wish it," she said instantly.
I thought she could be trusted; but it would do no harm to give her a bit of warning as to the situation.
"None but the King, the Princess and Courtney knows of this relationship," I said.
She regarded me with an amused smile. "Which means, if it become known, I alone could be the tattler."
There was no need to press the point further.
"It is His Majesty's secret as well as mine," I said, as if in explanation.
She shrugged her pretty shoulders. "I shall keep it because it's—yours," she answered.
There was no doubt Lady Helen could be fetching when she was so minded.
I took her hand and kissed it. Then I glanced around for onlookers.
Lady Helen laughed softly. "You men always do that," she said.
"Oh!" said I.
"You look only after it's all over."
"Oh!" said I, again.
"At least, so I have observed," she admitted, frankly.
"You mean such has been your experience?"
"Well," said she, with a mischievous gleam in her grey eyes, "wasn't it so just now?"
I got up and looked carefully around. No one was very near and we were in the shadow. I leaned over and quickly kissed her on the cheek.
"It wasn't so that time," I said.
She sat perfectly quiet for a bit.
"Let us hope," she said, at length; "let us hope that your eyes were trustworthy. Otherwise——"
"Yes?" I questioned.
"Otherwise our engagement must be announced or——"
"Yes?"
"You must give me the chance to cut you publicly, after which you must leave Dornlitz."
Here was a mess, sure enough. Yet, I was in for it—as most fools usually are.
"Which shall it be?" I said gayly.
She leaned close and looked me in the eyes. And beside her winsome face I saw, in my mind's eye, the Princess's, too—but only for an instant. Then I took her hand again. She smiled sweetly, almost as sweetly as Dehra herself could do.
"Let us wait until we know if we were seen," she said.
I made a move to kiss her again, but she drew away.
"Not so, sir; that time you did not look," she said, and stepped out into the light. Then I took her back to Lady Radnor.
"Don't be disconsolate, Major," she said, as we parted. "No one saw you—on the terrace."
I looked down at her gravely. "I am beginning to hope someone did," I said.
She shot a quick glance at me over her fan. "Are you tired of Dornlitz so soon?" she asked.
"I think I want to stay in Dornlitz," I answered.
"But the alternative, Major, the alternative."
"That is why I want to stay."
She smiled. "You did that very prettily," she said. "I shall forgive you the—the kiss."
"But if someone saw it?" I protested.
"You great stupid," she exclaimed, "no one did. Do you think I didn't look?"
"Oh!" said I. "Oh!"
"Sometimes you men are very foolish," she sympathized.
I looked at her a bit in silence. "You have changed since America," I remarked.
"For the better?"
I shrugged my shoulders.
"That's not nice of you," she said.
Then Courtney came up.
"Run along, Major," he ordered; "you've kept the Lady Helen over time."
She took his arm. "Please take me out on the terrace," she said. Then she smiled at me aggravatingly.
"Maybe our chairs are still vacant; better take Courtney to them," I said maliciously.
It was not quite fair, possibly; and she told me so with her eyes, though her lips smiled. I knew I had given her another score to settle.
It was Colonel Bernheim who brought me the Princess's commands for the dance; and the courteous way he did his office made me like him on the instant. And this, though there was a certain deference of manner that was rather suggestive.
The Princess was in the small room behind the throne and, when I was announced, beckoned me to her.
"Major Dalberg," said she, when I had made my bow, "I have ordered the band to play an American quickstep; will you dance it with me as it is done at your great school—West Point, is it not?"
It was done very neatly, indeed. No one of those present could have imagined there was any prior arrangement as to that particular dance. I saw the King smile approvingly.
"Your Royal Highness honors my country and its army, but through a very unworthy representative, I fear," I said, as I gave her my arm. Then the music began.
I have very little recollection of that dance; but I do know that Dehra needed no instruction in our way of doing the two-step; she glided through it as naturally as a Point-girl herself. And, when I told her so, she shrugged her pretty shoulders and answered:
"You are not the first American attaché, you know."
"Nor the last, either," I replied, and then held my peace, though I saw her hide a smile behind her roses.
"But you are the first that has been my cousin," she said sweetly,—and I succumbed, of course. Yet I was punished promptly, nevertheless, for at the throne she stopped and I led her back to the King.
"May I not have another dance later?" I asked.
She shook her head. "Don't you think you have been already favored more than you deserve, cousin?"
"Yes," said I, "I do; that's why I am encouraged to ask for more."
"What a paragon of modesty!" she mocked.
I passed it by. "And the dance?" I asked.
"I shall dance no more to-night," she said. Then we reached the door and found the small room crowded with officials and dignitaries. The Princess halted sharply. "But you may take me for a turn on the terrace," she concluded.
As we crossed the wide floor the crowd fell back,—but Dehra gave no greeting to anyone, though she must have known all eyes were upon us. Yet, to give her due credit, she seemed as unconscious of it as if we were alone in the room. As for me, I admit I was acutely conscious of it, and the walk to the door seemed endless. I must have shown my relief when it was over, for the Princess looked up with a smile.
"That's your first trial as one of the Blood," she said.
"There are compensations," I answered.
She ignored the point. "They are very few."
"Sometimes, one would be ample."
Again she evaded. "Yes, the privilege to be as free as the lowest subject," she answered, instantly.
"Pure theory," I said. "The lowest subject would think you mad."
"I would gladly exchange places," she said.
"Don't make any of them the offer."
"No—out of regard for my Father I won't."
"It's a great thing to be a Princess Royal," I ventured.
"Oh, I dare say—to those who care for great things."
"Who do not?"
"I don't. At least I think I don't."
"You would think so only until you were not the Princess Royal."
"That may be; but, as I am the Princess Royal and cannot well change my birthright, I don't see how I am to get the chance to think otherwise."
"It's better to think you do not like great things when you have them, than to like them and not have them."
"You make it only a choice of unhappinesses," she said.
"I make it only life."
"You are too young to be pessimistic," she said.
"And you are too fortunate in life to be unhappy," I answered.
"But you said life was but a choice of unhappinesses."
"Only to the discontented."
"Oh!" said she. "Instead of a pessimist you are a philosopher."
"I sincerely trust I'm neither."
"So do I, cousin," she laughed, "if we are to be friends. I don't like philosophers; which is natural, doubtless; and as a pessimist I prefer no rival."
"Which is also natural," I added. "And I promise not to interfere with your prerogative nor do the Socrates act again."
"Entre nous, I think you're wise; neither becomes you particularly."
I laughed. "You're frank."
"It's the privilege of cousins," she replied.
"Oh!" said I. "I'm glad you think so."
"That is—in matters strictly cousinly," she added quickly.
"I shall remember," I said.
She gave me a quick glance. "Can you remember several years back?" she said.
(So, she had recognized me.)
"That depends," said I. "I have a bad memory except for pleasant things."
"Then I am quite sure you will remember," she laughed, and fell to picking a rose apart, petal by petal.
"I am ready to remember anything," I said, catching one of the petals.
"Oh! But maybe I don't want you to remember."
"Then I'm ready——"
She looked at me quickly. "To forget?" she interrupted.
"To remember only what you wish," I ended.
"That means you will remember nothing until I wish it?"
I caught the half-plucked rose as she let it fall.
"It means my memory is at your command," I said.
She drew out another rose and dropped it deliberately.
"I am very awkward," she said, as I bent for it.
"On the contrary, I thought you did it very prettily," I answered.
She laughed. "Then you may keep it instead of the torn one."
"I shall keep both."
"Always?" she mocked.
"At least until I leave you."
"Thank Heaven, cousin, for once in my life I have had an honest answer!" she exclaimed, holding out her hand.
I took it. I did not kiss it, though that may seem strange. Sometimes, I do have the proper sense of the fitness of things.
"It's the privilege of cousins to be frank," I quoted.
"Have you always been frank with me?" she asked.
"Rather too much so, I fear."
She gave me a sharp look. "Do you know a Captain Smith of your Army?"
"Smith is a very common name in America. I know at least a dozen who are officers."
"John Smith is his name. He was a Captain, six years ago."
I appeared to think a moment. "I know two such—one in the Cavalry, the other in the Engineers."
"Describe them, please."
I showed surprise. "Does Your Royal Highness——?"
She cut in. "That is just what she is trying to find out."
"Yes?"
"Whether either of them is the Captain Smith I have in mind."
"Both would be much honored."
"I am not so sure as to the one I mean. He was a very conceited fellow."
I gritted back a smile. "It must have been the Engineer," I said. "He's a good deal of a prig."
She bent over the roses. "Oh, I wouldn't call him just that."
"It's no more than I've heard him call himself," I said.
"You must know him rather intimately."
"On the contrary, I know him very slightly, though I've been thrown with him considerably."
"Are you not friendly?" she asked.
"We have had differences."
Again the roses did duty. "I fear you are prejudiced," she said, and I thought I caught a smothered laugh.
"Not at all," I insisted. "I am disposed in his favor."
"So I should judge."
I could not decide which way she meant it. "Oh, he is not all bad," I condescended. "In many ways he is a good sort of chap."
"Now, that's better." she rejoined; "to say for him what he could not, of course, say for himself."
I forced back another laugh. "Oh, I don't know why he should not have said that to a friend," said I.
"It would depend much on the friend."
I did not know if she had given the opening, deliberately, but I took it.
"Of course, he would say that only to one he felt could understand him."
"You are painting him rather better than you did at first," she observed.
"I'm warming up to the subject."
"Then suppose you tell me what he looks like."
"That," said I, "is to tell his greatest fault."
"I do not understand."
"He looks like me," I explained.
"How horrible," she laughed.
"He has never ceased to deplore it," I said humbly.
"Surely, he never told you."
"To my face, many times."
"You had good cause for differences, then."
"Thank you, cousin," I said.
"And, may I ask," she went on, "what you did to him at such times?"
I shook my head. "It would not tell well."
"No, possibly not; but tell me, anyway," she said.
"Sometimes, I put him to bed—-and, sometimes, I bought him a superabundance of red liquor."
"Don't tell me the other times," she interposed.
"No," said I, "I won't."
She fell to plucking the roses again.
"This Captain Smith," she said presently; "was he in Valeria six years ago?"
"That would be in 189—?" I reflected a moment. "Yes he was here that year."
She thought a bit. "Was he given to reminiscing?"
"No one in America but myself knew he had been to Valeria."
She smiled.
I saw the blunder. "It happened he knew of my Dalberg descent," I hastened to add.
"Has he ever mentioned an adventure in the forest near the Summer Palace?"
"I am quite sure he has not," I said, but without looking at her.
Then I felt a touch on my arm—and I took her gloved fingers in my own and held them.
"You are very good, cousin," she said, then loosed her hand.
"When did you recognize me?" I asked.
"When you kissed me. That was why I was so angry."
"I noticed you were annoyed."
"Yet, I was more disappointed."
"Yes?" I inflected.
"To have my ideal Captain Smith shattered so completely."
"But when you learned it was your cousin?"
"That saved the ideal."
"But I cannot live up to the Captain."
She shook her head. "There is no need. The Captain is dead. It is my cousin Armand now."
"But every woman has her ideal," I ventured.
"Yes, I shall have to find a new one."
"Then it's only exit the Captain to enter a stranger," I said.
"Not necessarily a stranger," she returned.
"To be sure," I agreed; "there is His Royal Highness, the Duke of Lotzen."
"Or Casimir of Titia," she added, drawing down her mouth. "Or even my new-found cousin Armand."
"He died with the Captain," I laughed.
"No, the Captain died with him."
"I think, as a matter of proper precaution, it would be well to go in," I said.
"Are you tired of me, so soon?"
"You know very well it's because I'm fearful of disgracing the Captain again."
"Please don't," she said smilingly, "here comes a friend of yours."
It was Courtney with Lady Helen on his arm.
"Two friends of mine," I said, as they passed.
"You know Lady Helen Radnor?"
"After a fashion. I was stationed in Washington while Lord Radnor was Ambassador there."
"You two would suit each other."
"Yes?"
"You both are—shall I say it—flirts."
I began to disclaim.
"Nonsense!" she cut in. "Don't you think a woman knows another woman—and also a man?"
"By your leave, cousin, I'll not think," I said.
"It's a bit unnecessary sometimes," she laughed.
I made no reply. In truth, I knew none. But the Princess did not seem to notice it. She was plucking at the roses again.
"I wish I might flirt," she broke out suddenly.
I grasped the marble rail for support.
"Don't look so surprised," she laughed, "I'll not try it—I know what is permitted me."
"Then you never flirted?" I asked with assumed seriousness.
"No; that's another penalty of birth. With whom may the Princess Royal flirt?"
I waved my hand toward the ball room.
"I hope I am neither cruel nor indiscreet," she said, rather curtly.
"But there are many royal guests come to Dornlitz," I ventured.
She shrugged her shoulders. "They all bore me."
"Which only makes them the better material to practice on."
"Surely, I am very innocent," she said. "I thought at least a bit of sentiment was required."
"Sentiment only endangers the game," I explained.
"But suppose the sentiment were to come suddenly—in the midst of the 'game,' as you call it?"
"Then," said I, "there is rare trouble ahead for the other party."
"But if that one also were to become—you know," she went on.
"There's an end to the flirtation; it's a different kind of game then."
"Are you quite sure there can be flirtation without sentiment?" she persisted.
"It's the only artistic sort; and the only safe sort, too," I answered sagely.
"And is it a pleasant game to play for a while in that fashion?" she asked.
"Doubtless," I answered evasively; "only it is rarely done."
She went back to the roses again. "I think, cousin, I shall flirt with you," she said suddenly.
I took a fresh hold on the railing. I was surprised.
But I was more troubled; for I was quite sure she meant it.
"Don't you think, Princess, you are putting me to a heavy test?" I objected. "I may cease to be artistic."
"You said it could be done."
"Yes, as a general———"
"Then your test is no heavier than mine," she interrupted.
I bowed. So, this was her punishment for the kiss of salutation.
"But if I were to fail to carry the game through properly?" I said.
She hesitated. "I may fail, too," she said.
"And then?" I asked.
She looked away. "It would make no difference in the ending. You would go away; and I—would make some crazy marriage of political expediency."
I straightened up. Maybe she had not been maliciously leading me out. Maybe she was simply unhappy and wanting a new sensation. Then, suddenly, she put her hand on my arm.
"Come, Armand," she said; "take me back to the King. We have flirted enough for one evening."
"We?" I said wonderingly.
She took a rose from her gown—and drew it through my sword belt.
"Yes," she said; and gave me one of those bewildering smiles. "Wouldn't you call it that? At least, you have taught me to-night all I know of the game."
"And how about six years ago, cousin?" I said, securing her hand.
She looked down demurely. "Well, maybe I did learn a little that day," she admitted.