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His head being full of his Princess, he was vaguely puzzled as to the reasons for which Lady Danesborough desired his acquaintance. "You don't remember me," she said. He looked at her squarely for the first time; then started back. "Good God!" he cried involuntarily. "Good God! I've been wanting to find you all my life. I never knew your name. But here's the proof."
I don't think you've met her; but you'll find she's an old friend." "Old friend?" echoed Paul. She smiled and turned to a pretty and buxom woman of forty standing near. "My dear Lady Danesborough. Here is Mr. Savelli, whom you are so anxious to meet." Paul bowed politely.
In Lady Danesborough, the Maisie Shepherd of his urchindom, whose name he had never known, she had assured him a sympathetic and influential partner. Also, although he had tactfully not taken up that lady's remark, he felt proud of his Princess's glorious certainty that he would have no false and contemptible shame in the encounter. She had known that it would be a joy to him; and it was.
She spoke in French, daringly using the intimate "tu"; but of all sorts of things books, theatres, picture shows. Then tactfully she drew the Prince and his neighbour and Lady Danesborough into their circle, and, pulling the strings, she at last brought Paul and the Prince into a discussion over the pictures of the Doges in the Ducal Palace in Venice. The young Prince was gracious.
The instinctive appeal to the romantic ringing so true and so sincere awoke responsive chords in hearts which, after all, as is the simple way of hearts of men and women, were very human. He sat down a made man, amid pleasant laughter and bowings and lifting of glasses, the length of the long table. Lady Danesborough said gently: "It was charming of you to bring me in.
Altogether and now considering our early acquaintance I think I'm justified in calling you 'the great Paul Savelli." Then came the shifting of talk. The Prince turned to his left-hand neighbour; Lady Danesborough to her right. Paul and the Princess had their conventional opportunity for conversation.
"I'm very pleased to meet you," said the Prince graciously. "Your Young England League has interested me greatly. We must have a talk about it one of these days, if you can spare the time. And I must congratulate you on your speech the other night." "You are far too kind, sir," said Paul. They chatted for a minute or two. Then the Princess said: "You'll take in the Countess of Danesborough.
The announcement of dinner broke the thread of the talk. Paul looked around him and saw that the room was filled with very great people indeed. There were chiefs of his party and other exalted personages. There was Lord Francis Ayres. Also the Winwoods. The procession was formed. "I've often wondered about you," said Lady Danesborough, as they were walking down the wide staircase.
Never before had she publicly given him especial mark of her favour. "Do you think she's right in doing this?" he murmured to Lady Danesborough. It seemed so natural that he should ask her as though she were fully aware of all his secrets. "I think so," she smiled as though she too were in the conspiracy.
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