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Updated: May 15, 2025
When Lady Saxondale rang for the candles near the midnight hour, she took her candlestick from the maid, with no little relief, and unceremoniously made her way toward the hall. She nervously uttered a general good-night to the party and flushed angrily when Quentin's voice responded with the others: "Good-night, Dorothy." "I cannot endure it," she cried to herself a dozen times before morning.
Her swift, abashed glance toward Prince Ugo, whose presence she had not observed, did not escape his eyes. She looked up and saw the peculiar smile on Quentin's lips, and there was deep meaning in her next remark to him: "You will meet the prince here on Friday. I shall ask him to come early, that he may learn to know you better." "Thank you. I'd like to know him better.
In the first of these he tells of the wife of a famous avocat in the parlement of Paris, who saw to the nurture and marriage of her husband's illegitimate daughter; 'nor did he ever perceive it by one reproach, or one angry or ugly word. The second is the charmingly told story of how John Quentin's wife won back her husband's heart from the poor spinner of wool to whom it had strayed.
There was a moment of indecision, a vivid flush leaped into her lovely cheek, and then her hand went quickly forth and rested on Quentin's shoulder. He started and looked at her for the first time. "I am sorry, Ugo, for the wrong I have done you," she said, steadily, but her hand trembled convulsively on Phil's shoulder.
A part of this speech again called the colour into the Countess's pale cheeks, which was not lessened by Quentin's sudden appearance.
"I'll come with you," said Barbara. So once more, on altruistic errand, I motored post-haste to London. We alighted at St. Quentin's Mansions. My friend the porter came out to receive us. "Has a lady been here with a key of Mr. Chayne's flat?" "No, sir, not to my knowledge." We drew breaths of relief. Our journey had been something of a strain. "Thank goodness!" said Barbara.
The effect of it was unpleasant somehow, holding, as it did to his mind, suggestions of other things still more baffling and impending, from which though you might keep them at arm's length there was no permanent or actual escape. The question of Miss St. Quentin's characteristics did not consequently greatly interest him. He had arrived at conclusions.
But the young girl cowered down, hiding her face in Honoria St. Quentin's bosom. "Oh! don't say it again don't say it," she implored. "It was wicked of me to listen to you even for a minute. I ought to have stopped you at once and sent you away. It was very wrong of me to listen, and talk to you, and tell you all that I did. But everything is so strange, and I have been so miserable.
Quentin's only answer was a pressure of the young Countess's hand, which seemed as if, but for terror, it would have returned the caress. And, leaning on her youthful protector, she entered the fearful hall, preceded by Pavillon and his lieutenant, and followed by a dozen of the Kurschenschaft, or skinner's trade, who attended as a guard of honour on the Syndic.
Quentin's valet, having received his instructions from his master, took the two females to a pavilion in the park, and the painter went to the hotel to await the result of his negotiation. Half an hour afterwards the king entered the pavilion alone, asked the young O-Morphi if she was a Greek woman, took the portrait out of his pocket, and after a careful examination exclaimed,
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