Part 19 (1/2)

The Prince raised his hands.

”What a fate!” he exclaimed. ”When Rambon was _chef_ for President Carnot, kings and emperors bestowed upon him decorations. I recall that when he created the _Parfait Rambon_--ah!--the governor of his Province set aside a day of celebration. Rambon unappreciated--it is to say that genius is unappreciated!” He turned apologetically to Mrs.

Wellington. ”America--what would you?”

Mrs. Wellington sniffed ever so slightly. She had become a bit weary of the Russian's a.s.sumption of European superiority. She recognized that in Prince Koltsoff she had a guest, her possession of whom had excited among the cottage colony the envy of all those whose envy she desired. So far as she was concerned, that was all she wanted. Now that Anne and the Prince appeared to be hitting it off, she was content to let that matter take its course as might be, with, however, a pretty well defined conviction that her daughter was thoroughly alive to the desirability, not to say convenience, of such an alliance. In her secret heart, however, she rather marvelled at Anne's open interest in the Koltsoff. To be frank, the Prince was boring her and she had come to admit that she, personally, had far rather contemplate the n.o.ble guest as a far-distant son-in-law, than as a husband, a.s.suming that her age and position were eligible.

So--she sniffed.

”My dear Prince,” she said, ”I will take you to a hundred tables in Newport and--I was going to say ten thousand--a thousand in New York, where the food is better cooked than in any private house in Europe.”

Touched upon a spot peculiarly tender, Koltsoff all but exploded.

”_Pouf_!” he cried. Then he laughed heartily. ”You jest, surely, my dear madame.”

”No, I fancy not,” replied Mrs. Wellington placidly.

”Oh, but how can you know! Where is it that the writings of Careme are studied and known? Where is it that the memory of Beauvilliers and the reputations of Ranhofer and Casimir and Mollard are preserved? In Europe--”

”In Paris,” corrected Mrs. Wellington.

”Well. And from Paris disseminated glowingly throughout Europe--'”

”And the United States.”

Koltsoff struggled with himself for a moment.

”Pardon,” he said, ”but, bah! It cannot be.”

”Naturally, you are at the disadvantage of not having had the experience at American tables that I have had abroad,” observed Mrs.

Wellington rising. ”But we shall hope to correct that while you are here. . . . As for the sauce you praised, it was not by Rambon--who is out to-day--but by Takakika, his a.s.sistant, a j.a.panese whom Mr.

Wellington brought on from the Bohemian Club, I think, in San Francisco.”

If Koltsoff did not catch Mrs. Wellington's intimation that he must have learned of the presence of Rambon in her kitchen,--which might have been more accurately described as a laboratory,--Anne Wellington did, and she hastened to intervene.

”Oh, Prince Koltsoff,” she said, ”I have been so interested in those torpedo boats out there. They 've been das.h.i.+ng about the lights.h.i.+p all through lunch. What is the idea, do you know?”

The Prince glanced out of the window.

”I cannot imagine.” He gazed over the ocean in silence for several minutes. ”Have you a telescope?” he said at length.

Anne nodded.

”The large gla.s.s is on that veranda. And you 'll excuse me until half after three, won't you?”

”Until half after three,” said the Prince, still rather ruffled as the result of his duel with the mother.

Then he went out on the porch and for an hour had the torpedo boats under his almost continuous gaze.

”Nothing but hide and seek,” he muttered as he finally snapped the shutter of the gla.s.s and went to his room to dress.

He had quite recovered his spirits when he handed Anne Wellington into the motor car. Armitage had half turned and she caught his eyes. Just the faintest suspicion of a smile appeared on her face as she leaned forward.