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Are you traveling beyond Vienna? If so, and you give us another musical this evening " "There is some mistake," faltered Joan, unconsciously answering in English. "People who do not know Monsieur Poluski often take him for an operatic artiste. He is a painter. He sings only to amuse himself, and seldom waits to consider whether the time and place are well chosen."
"There's thunder in the air," said Poluski to himself; but he continued to admire the irregular outlines of Fürst Michaelstrasse.
Talbot's hands clenched the arms of the chair in which she was sitting, and the two women exchanged glances. None of this escaped Alec, who was seemingly unmoved. "Behold in me, then," continued Poluski, "the Ambassador of Kosnovia.
It was there, too, that Felix Poluski had spoken those plain words to Prince Michael Delgrado, and its situation was so convenient for the King's daily comings and goings that he had utilized it temporarily as an office and private audience chamber. At the top of the stairs he happened to catch sight of Pauline, Joan's staid looking maid.
Felix, who was already being eyed askance by the presidential hangers-on in the entrance lobby, returned to the courtyard and appealed to the officer in charge of the escort. A brief conversation with an official elicited the fact that Sobieski awaited Prince Michael's commands. "Then bring Prince Michael here," said Poluski. "Monsieur!"
Instead, therefore, of appealing to one of the officials, he approached Poluski, and the two exchanged greetings with the politeness that Paris quickly teaches to those who dwell within her gates. "You work in this gallery most days, monsieur?" said Julius. "But yes, monsieur," said Felix.
Joan was not present; but Felix Poluski was preparing a canvas for his twenty-seventh copy of the famous Murillo.
"She was tall, elegant, charming in manner and appearance." Poluski appeared to reflect. "The vision sounds entrancing, monsieur," he said; "but that sort of girl doesn't usually earn her crusts by daubing canvas in the Louvre at so much a square foot." "Yet I saw her, without a doubt. She was not alone that morning. In fact, a friend of mine was with her." Poluski turned to his easel.
"About a fortnight ago, monsieur," explained Marulitch, "I happened to be here at this hour, and I noticed a young lady copying one of the pictures on the opposite wall. Can you tell me who she was?" "Can you tell me which picture she was copying?" said Poluski. "I am not sure; this one, I think," and Julius pointed to "The Fortune Teller." "Ah! Describe her, monsieur."
Well, Miss Joan Vernon cannot, by the very nature of things, become Queen of Kosnovia. It is not that I disapprove of the notion, Felix; it is simply impossible." Poluski struck a match and began to smoke furiously.
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