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The two constantly exchanged letters, and, as the Princess d'Alchingen was an invalid who devoted her hours to spiritual reading, she gladly permitted Lady Sara's influence, realising with the priceless knowledge of a spirit made reasonable through pain that the girl was romantic and the Prince incurably old.
The Marquis of Castrillon had been with her in Madrid, and also at Baron Zeuill's palace after the escape from Loadilla. "Where is Castrillon now?" asked Robert. "I understand he is in London," answered Disraeli; "at Claridge's Hotel. D'Alchingen and he are on excellent terms." "Good!" said Robert, tightening his lips. "You will find he has been invited to Hadley." "I haven't a doubt of it."
But Prince d'Alchingen for reasons of his own, however, had offered the young man a seat in the one small box which had a gilded grille before it and was so made that it seemed part of the massive decoration. "You cannot be seen," said the Prince; "I won't tell her that you are present; and I give you my word of honour that I won't tell anybody not even my wife."
Hadley Lodge was built in the reign of George I. In design it resembles a little the Vice-Regal Lodge in Dublin; two wings, containing innumerable small rooms, are connected by corridors leading to the entrance hall. The chief rooms are in the centre, to which Prince d'Alchingen himself added a miniature theatre, copied from the one at Trianon.
No one could doubt the evidence of Lady Fitz Rewes." D'Alchingen shrugged his shoulders. "In that event which is unlikely," he said; "M. de Hausée will have a bad half-hour with Mrs. Parflete. The idyll will be spoilt for ever, and our pretty tale for angels about a Saint and a little Bohemian will sink to its proper level. It always takes three to make a really edifying Platonic history.
She turned them over with languid interest, murmuring unconsciously to herself the names of her correspondents. "From dear Ethel. Why is she in Edinburgh? I hope her father isn't ill again. Alice. Uncle. Mrs. Lanark. Mary Butler. Prince d'Alchingen. That tiresome Miss Bates. Mr. Seward." She paused and flushed deeply. "Robert." Then she turned to Father Foster with shining eyes.
"But Castrillon is a wicked wretch a libertine." "We have already acted together in this very piece at Madrid. Much depends on my playing well next Saturday. I am quite sure of his talent, and, in such a case, his private morals are not my affair. He is no worse than Prince d'Alchingen was, and most of his associates are." "You can't know what you are saying," answered Pensée.
It may suit her purpose to agree." "What! A woman who loves, or who has loved Robert Orange? A few things in human nature are still impossible." Prince d'Alchingen shrugged his shoulders, and continued "Parflete has a good back-stairs knowledge of Alberian politics. We never deny this, but we always add that he was dismissed, in disgrace, from the Imperial Household."
D'Alchingen declares that he studied Orange to the depths of his soul, and he does him the justice to say that he did not make a movement or utter a word which denoted the least emotion. There was not any sort of alteration in his countenance, and he led the conversation with a tranquillity and a gaiety really enchanting.
He could hear it still. Prince d'Alchingen had been much put out of conceit with himself by disappointment. The small dinner which he had carefully arranged for Orange and Castrillon took place, but Orange was not present. He had sent word from Almouth House that he could not leave Lord Reckage.
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