The atmosphere which surrounded this
princess was idyllic, pastoral. She had seen nothing of the
world, its sports and pastimes, and the art of playing at love
was unknown to her. Again he could see her serious eyes, the
delicate chin and mouth, the oval cheeks, and the dog that
followed in her steps. Here was an indelible picture which time
could never efface. Something stirred in his heart, and he
sighed.
And ah, the woman in the veil! Who could she be? The more he
thought of her the more convinced he was that she stood high in
the service of any one but Leopold of Osia. And Fitzgerald! That
sober old soldier concerned with crowns and millions! It was
incredible; it was almost laughable. They had met up-country in
India, and had hunted, and Maurice had saved the Englishman's
life. Occasionally they had corresponded.
"Well, to bed," said the young diplomat. "This has been a full
day." And, like the true newspaper man he was, for all his
diplomacy, he emptied the bottle and entered the room. He was
about to disrobe, when some one rapped on the door. He opened it,
and beheld a man in the livery of the Grand Hotel.
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