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It had been an impressive ceremony, in spite of the fact that so few had taken part in it, but the earnestness of the visitors and the enthusiasm of Kalonay and the priest had made up for the lack of numbers.
It was an effective tableau, and the visitors observed it with varying emotions, but with silence. The King rose, taking his son's hand in his, and bowed, looking inquiringly from Barrat to the Prince Kalonay. "To what do I owe the pleasure of this visit?" he asked. "Was it discreet of you to come together in this way? But you are most welcome. Place chairs for the ladies, Barrat."
And to help him live up to it he has surrounded himself with a parcel of adventurers as rascally as himself: a Colonel Erhaupt who was dropped from a German regiment, and who is a Colonel only by the favor of the Queen of Madagascar; a retired croupier named Barrat; and a fallen angel called Kalonay, a fellow of the very best blood in Europe and with the very worst morals.
Madame Zara once more bowed her head. "No! You must speak," commanded the priest. "Answer me!" Zara hesitated, in evident distress, and glanced appealingly at the King; but the expression on his face was one of grief and of unrelenting virtue. "I do," she said, at last, in a low voice. "Kalonay did know.
The Baron raised his eyebrows with a glance of polite interrogation. "I wonder if Kalonay dared to make love to her on the way down." The Baron's face became as expressionless as a death-mask, and he shrugged his shoulders in protest. " Or did she make love to Kalonay?" the King insisted, laughing gently. "I wonder now. I do not care to know, but I wonder."
Kalonay looked at Gordon for a moment with serious consideration, and then held out his hand. "You also had faith in me," he said. "I thank you. Are you in earnest; do you really wish to serve us?" "I mean to stay by you until the boy is crowned," said the American, "unless we separate on our several paths of glory where they will lead depends, I imagine, on how we have lived."
He had placed himself at the beck and call of every idle man and woman in Paris, and he was as common as the great clock-face that hangs above the boulevards. Miss Carson's feelings toward Kalonay were not of her own choosing, and had passed through several stages.
According to tradition the Kalonay family was an older one than that of the House of Artois, and its name had always been the one next in importance to that of the reigning house.
The Prince Kalonay stepped from the circle and stood for a moment before the King, regarding him with an expression of grief and bitter irony. The King's eyes rose insolently, and faltered, and sank.
"You have outgrown your old title," she said; "you have a proud one now, you will be the Prince Regent." Kalonay, with the child in his arms, and Miss Carson were standing quite alone.
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