Part 25 (1/2)
”Too late, Prince,” she exclaimed. ”The favours of the Countess are all given away. Lucille has become even as one of those flaxen-haired dolls of your mountain villages. She has given her heart away, and she is sworn to perpetual constancy.”
The Prince smiled.
”The absence,” he said, glancing up at the clock, ”of that most fortunate person should surely count in our favour.”
Lucille followed his eyes. The clock was striking ten. She shrugged her shoulders.
”If the converse also is true, Prince,” she said, ”you can scarcely have anything to hope for from me. For by half-past ten he will be here.”
The Prince picked up his cards and sorted them mechanically.
”We shall see,” he remarked. ”It is true, Countess, that you are here, but in this instance you are set with thorns.”
”To continue the allegory, Prince,” she answered, pa.s.sing on to the next table, ”also with poisonous berries. But to the hand which has no fear, neither are harmful.”
The Prince laid down his hand.
”Now I really believe,” he said gently, ”that she meant to be rude.
Partner, I declare hearts!”
Felix was standing out from the next table whilst his hand was being played by General Dolinski, his partner. He drew her a little on one side.
”Do not irritate Saxe Leinitzer,” he whispered. ”Remember, everything must rest with him. Twice to-night you have brought that smile to his lips, and I never see it without thinking of unpleasant things.”
”You are right,” she answered; ”but I hate him so. He and Muriel Carey seem to have entered into some conspiracy to lead me on to say things which I might regret.”
”Saxe Leinitzer,” he said, ”has never forgotten that he once aspired to be your lover.”
”He has not failed to let me know it,” she answered. ”He has even dared--ah!”
There was a sudden stir in the room. The library door was thrown open.
The solemn-visaged butler stood upon the threshold.
”His Grace the Duke of Souspennier!” he announced.
CHAPTER XVIII
There was for the moment a dead silence. The soft patter of cards no longer fell upon the table. The eyes of every one were turned upon the newcomers. And he, leaning upon his stick, looked only for one person, and having found her, took no heed of any one else.
”Lucille!”
She rose from her seat and stood with hands outstretched towards him, her lips parted in a delightful smile, her eyes soft with happiness.
”Victor, welcome! It is like you to have found me, and I knew that you would come.”
He raised her fingers to his lips--tenderly--with the grace of a prince, but all the affection of a lover. What he said to her none could hear, for his voice was lowered almost to a whisper. But the colour stained her cheeks, and her blush was the blush of a girl.
A movement of the d.u.c.h.ess recalled him to a sense of his social duty. He turned courteously to her with extended hand.