Part 48 (1/2)

”Her Highness has a party?” he asked.

”Yes, sir. A very large dinner party.”

Paul pa.s.sed his hand over his forehead. What did it mean? ”This is Friday, isn't it?”

”Of course, sir.”

Paul grew angry. It was a woman's trap to force him on society. For a moment he struggled with the temptation to walk away after telling the servant that it was a mistake and that he had not been invited. At once, however, came realization of social outrage. He surrendered hat and coat and let himself be announced. The noise of thirty voices struck his ear as he entered the great drawing-room. He was confusedly aware of a glitter of jewels, and bare arms and shoulders and the black and white of men. But radiant in the middle of the room stood his Princess, with a tiara of diamonds on her head, and beside her stood a youngish man whose face seemed oddly familiar.

Paul advanced, kissed her hand.

She laughed gaily. ”You are late, Paul.”

”You said half-past, Princess. I am here to the minute.”

”Je te dirai apres,” she said, and the daring of the intimate speech took his breath away.

”Your Royal Highness,” she turned to the young man beside her--and then Paul suddenly recognized a prince of the blood royal of England--”may I present Mr. Savelli.”

”I'm very pleased to meet you,” said the Prince graciously. ”Your Young England League has interested me greatly. We must have a talk about it one of these days, if you can spare the time. And I must congratulate you on your speech the other night.”

”You are far too kind, sir,” said Paul.

They chatted for a minute or two. Then the Princess said: ”You'll take in the Countess of Danesborough. I don't think you've met her; but you'll find she's an old friend.”

”Old friend?” echoed Paul.

She smiled and turned to a pretty and buxom woman of forty standing near. ”My dear Lady Danesborough. Here is Mr. Savelli, whom you are so anxious to meet.”

Paul bowed politely. His head being full of his Princess, he was vaguely puzzled as to the reasons for which Lady Danesborough desired his acquaintance.

”You don't remember me,” she said.

He looked at her squarely for the first time; then started back. ”Good G.o.d!” he cried involuntarily. ”Good G.o.d! I've been wanting to find you all my life. I never knew your name. But here's the proof.”

And he whipped out the cornelian heart from his waistcoat pocket. She took it in her hand, examined it, handed it back to him with a smile, a very sweet and womanly smile, with just the suspicion of mist veiling her eyes.

”I know. The Princess has told me.”

”But how did she find you out--I mean as my first patroness?”

”She wrote to the vicar, Mr. Merewether--he is still at Bludston--asking who his visitor was that year and what had become of her. So she found out it was I. I've known her off and on ever since my marriage.”

”You were wonderfully good to me,” said Paul. ”I must have been a funny little wretch.”

”You've travelled far since then.”

”It was you that gave me my inspiration,” said he.

The announcement of dinner broke the thread of the talk. Paul looked around him and saw that the room was filled with very great people indeed. There were chiefs of his party and other exalted personages.

There was Lord Francis Ayres. Also the Winwoods. The procession was formed.