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True to the promise made by the bandit, a clattering band of horsemen dashed up to the lonely house at the break of dawn. They were led by Prince Ugo Ravorelli, dishevelled, half-crazed. A shivering woman in silks and a cowering old man sobbed with joy when the rescuers burst through the door.
Ah, your face, your eyes betray you! You were thinking of Philip Quentin, not of Ugo Ravorelli. You were praying that one strong arm might come to your relief, you knew but one man in all the world who had the courage, the love, the power to rescue you. Last night, when you entered this dismal place, you wondered if Philip Quentin yes, Philip Quentin could break down the doors and save you.
"Have you the authority to take her, if I refuse to obey?" asked the other, with exasperating coolness. "These officers have the authority to arrest you and to take her from your hands, violently, if necessary." "Oh, well, that makes a difference, of course. Miss Garrison is here, Prince Ravorelli, but I doubt your authority to take her away."
"We drink to the undying happiness of our host, the luckiest prince in all the world. May he always know the bliss of a lover and never the cares of a husband; may his wedded state be an endless love story without a prosaic passage; may life with the new Princess of Ravorelli be a poem, a song, a jub late, with never a dirge between its morn and its midnight."
I will not speak now of your unusual and unwarranted behavior during the past month, nor will I undertake to say how much annoyance and displeasure you have caused. She is the affianced wife of Prince Ravorelli and she marries him because she loves him. I have given you her decision." For a moment their eyes met like the clashing of swords.
"I hear you are going over this fall," said Quentin, with a fair show of interest. "Who who told you so?" she asked, in some surprise. He could not detect confusion. "Prince Ravorelli. At least, he said he expected to make the trip this fall. Am I wrong in suspecting that he is not going alone?" "We mean to spend much of the winter in the United States, chiefly in Florida.
He saw it was useless to temporize, and there was no necessity for disguising his true feelings. They had come to the point where all that had lain smothered and dormant was to be pricked into activity; the mask was to be thrown down with the gauntlet. "So much the better; you are not in doubt as to what I meant. Now, Prince Ravorelli, may I ask you to speak plainly?"
"Why did you let Dickey Savage fight for you last night? Where was your manhood? Why did you slink away from Prince Ravorelli this morning?" she said, intensely. "Who has told you all this?" he demanded. "No matter who has told me. You did play the part of a coward. What else can you call it?"
We either murder in cold blood or we fight it out like men, not like stage heroes." "I will add then, sir, that you are a coward." "I have been brave enough to refrain from hiring men to do my fighting. We will fight, Prince Ravorelli, but we will not fight with weapons made by man. You call me a coward and I call you a scoundrel. We have hands and arms and with them we shall fight."
That night Quentin met, for the first time, the reigning society sensation, Prince Ugo Ravorelli, and his countrymen, Count Sallaconi and the Duke of Laselli. All London had gone mad over the prince. There was something oddly familiar in the face and voice of the Italian. Quentin sat with him for an hour, listening with puzzled ears to the conversation that went on between him and Saxondale.
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