The Yellow Crayon Part 25

"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.

"I trust," he said, "that I may be forgiven my temporary fit of aberration. I cannot thank you sufficiently, d.u.c.h.ess, for your kind invitation."

Her answering smile was a little dubious.

"I am sure," she said "that we are delighted to welcome back amongst us so old and valued a friend. I suppose you know every one?"

Mr. Sabin looked searchingly around, exchanging bows with those whose faces were familiar to him. But between him and the Prince of Saxe Leinitzer there pa.s.sed no pretense at any greeting. The two men eyed one another for a moment coldly. Each seemed to be trying to read the other through.

"I believe," Mr. Sabin said, "that I have that privilege. I see, however, that I am interrupting your game. Let me beg you to continue.

With your permission, d.u.c.h.ess, I will remain a spectator. There are many things which my wife and I have to say to one another."

The Prince of Saxe Leinitzer laid his cards softly upon the table. He smiled upon Mr. Sabin--a slow, unpleasant smile.

"I think," he said slowly, "that our game must be postponed. It is a pity, but I think it had better be so."

"It must be entirely as you wish," Mr. Sabin answered. "I am at your service now or later."

The Prince rose to his feet.

"Monsieur le Due de Souspennier," he said, "what are we to conclude from your presence here this evening?"

"It is obvious," Mr. Sabin answered. "I claim my place amongst you."

"You claim to be one of us?"

"I do!"

"Ten years ago," the Prince continued, "you were granted immunity from all the penalties and obligations which a co-membership with us might involve. This privilege was extended to you on account of certain great operations in which you were then engaged, and the object of which was not foreign to our own aims. You are aware that the period of that immunity is long since past."

Mr. Sabin leaned with both hands upon his stick, and his face was like the face of a sphinx. Only Lucille, who knew him best of all those there, saw him wince for a moment before this reminder of his great failure.

"I am not accustomed," Mr. Sabin said quietly, "to shirk my share of the work in any undertaking with which I am connected. Only in this case I claim to take the place of the Countess Lucille, my wife. I request that the task, whatever it may be which you have imposed upon her, may be transferred to me."

The Prince's smile was sweet, but those who knew him best wondered what evil it might betoken for his ancient enemy.

"You offer yourself, then, as a full member?"

"a.s.suredly!"

"Subject," he drawled, "to all the usual pains and privileges?"

"Certainly!"

The Prince played with the cards upon the table. His smooth, fair face was unruffled, almost undisturbed. Yet underneath he was wondering fiercely, eagerly, how this might serve his ends.

"The circ.u.mstances," he said at last, "are peculiar. I think that we should do well to consult together--you and I, Felix, and Raoul here."