Part 12 (1/2)

”It would be very disagreeable for me, your Royal Highness!”

”Oh, well,” he said, ”I'll go and ask her.”

As Daphne had antic.i.p.ated, Queen Selina's refusal was most emphatic.

”You ought to know, Clarence, that it's utterly out of the question!”

she said. ”And I'm surprised at Miss Heritage having the presumption to expect it.”

”She didn't, Mater. She said I'd better ask you first.”

”Then it seems she has a better sense of her position than you have of yours, Clarence. I'm told you have been seen walking about with a disgusting pipe in your mouth, and that several people were remarking on it. Now you are actually proposing to make yourself conspicuous by dancing at a State Ball with your sister's companion! I have always credited you with being a man of the world--but if _this_ is the way you are going on----!”

He felt the sting of so unwonted a rebuke. ”I daresay you're right, Mater,” he acknowledged. ”I'll be more careful after this.”

”I hope you will, I'm sure. As Crown Prince you mustn't _think_ of any partner under the rank of Baroness. Ask one of the Princesses first, or you'll give _more_ offence.”

”Right-oh!” was all he said, and, feeling that it would be awkward to make any explanation or excuses to Daphne, he solved the difficulty by avoiding her for the rest of the evening.

Princess Goldernenfingerleinigen, a prepossessing but not very forthcoming damsel, enjoyed the distinction of being commanded by the Crown Prince as his first partner.

He had had no experience in conversing with Princesses, and she did not exert herself either to put him more at his ease or prevent him from losing himself frequently in the mazes of the dance. Once or twice he was oppressed by a painful suspicion that he had seen her making a little grimace of self-pity at the Countess Gansehirtin. But elaborately engraved mirrors are not very trustworthy, and he might have been mistaken. Still, he was thankful when the dance, in which he was conscious of having done himself so little credit, came to an end.

”Edna, old girl,” he remarked subsequently to the Princess Royal, ”I call this a rotten ball. Can't stick dancing with any more of these Princesses!”

Princess Edna, it appeared, had been no more favourably impressed by the Courtiers.

”They've simply _no_ conversation,” she complained, ”and no ideas about any serious subjects!”

”No, _I_'ve noticed that,” he said; ”and they think they're the only people who can dance! I tell you what--you and I'll show 'em how we do the Tango. That'll make 'em open their eyes!”

It did. As has already been said, both he and Edna, as persons who could not afford to be out of the movement, had taken lessons that winter in the recent importation from dubious Argentine dancing-saloons. They danced it now with conscientious care, Prince Clarence exhibiting as much _abandon_ as a man could who was dancing with his sister.

But the Court were not sufficiently enlightened to appreciate the performance. They evidently considered it not only uncouth and undignified, but more than a little improper, and their general att.i.tude conveyed that the couple were committing one of those temporary indiscretions which it was not only etiquette but charity to pa.s.s over in silence.

”Capital!” said King Sidney, clapping his hands at the conclusion.

”Uncommonly well they dance together, eh, my dear--never seen them do it before.”

”And you will never see them do it again, Sidney,” replied the Queen; ”for I'm much mistaken if they haven't broken up the Ball!”

She was not very far wrong, for although, after some minutes of awestruck silence, dancing was resumed, it was carried on with a restraint and gloom that soon decided the Royal Family to retire from the Ball Room.

The Queen forbore from expressing her sentiments just then either to her son or daughter, with the latter of whom, indeed, she seldom, if ever, ventured to find fault. But she felt that her first evening in the Palace had not been a brilliant success.

This feeling impelled her to be more ingratiating than ever to her ladies of the Bedchamber, whose services in disrobing her she was compelled to accept, though under protest.

”So _much_ obliged!” she said, as they finally withdrew with glacial ceremony. ”Quite ashamed to have troubled you, really! Good-night, dear Princess, _good_-night. We shall breakfast at 8.30. But _en famille_, you know--quite _en famille_--so don't _dream_ of coming down!”

”I hope, Sidney,” she began later, as he joined her in the Royal Bedchamber, ”I hope you have treated the gentlemen who undressed you with proper consideration. It is _so_ important.... Good gracious!

What's that you've got on? A night-cap?”