"It is Alexia," she said, after some hesitation, watching him
closely to observe the effect.
But he was as far away as ever. "Alexia what?"
"Only Alexia," a faint coquetry stealing into her glance.
"O, then you are probably a maid?"
"Y--es. But you are disappointed?"
"No, indeed. You have put me more at ease. I suppose you serve
the princess?"
"Whenever I can," demurely.
He could not keep his eyes from hers. "They say that she is a
very lonely princess."
"So lonely." And the coquetry faded from her eyes as her glance
wandered waterward and became fixed on some object invisible and
far away. "Poor lonely princess!"
Maurice was growing colder and colder, but he did not mind. He
had wished for some woman to talk to; his wish had been granted.
"I feel sorry for her, if what they say is true," having no
other words.
"And what do they say, Monsieur?"
"That she and her father have been socially ostracized. I should
be proud to be her friend." Once the words were gone from him,
he saw their silliness. "A presumptuous statement," he added; "I
am an obscure foreigner."
"Friendship, Monsieur, is a thing we all should prize, all the
more so when it is disinterested.
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