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She's a real princess, gentlemen, and the prettiest woman I've ever laid my eyes upon. And to think of her as the wife of that blithering little ass that nincompoop of a Karl Brabetz! She loathes him, I'm sure I know she does. And she's got to marry him! That's what she gets for being a Grand Duke's daughter.
She smiled plaintively and said instead: "Good-night! Get a good sleep." "The same to you," he called feverishly. "Deppy," she said firmly, a red spot in each cheek, her voice tense and strained to a high pitch of suppressed decision, "I shall marry Karl Brabetz. That will be the end of your Mr. Chase." "I hope so," he said. "But I'm not so sure of it, if you continue to love him as you do now."
"It's too bad she's down to marry that horrid little Brabetz," she said to herself, with a sudden wistful glance at the proud, vibrant, loveable creature ahead. "She deserves a better fate than that." Genevra waited for her at the head of the stairway. "Agnes, I'd like you to promise that you will keep your avaricious claws off Mrs. Browne's husband," she said, seriously.
If he was tormented by this thought at the happiest season of the year, his crustiness was attributed by others to the loneliness of his life on the island. If he grew leaner and more morose, no one knew that it was due to the passing of a woman. Now she was come to the island and, so far as he had been able to see, there was no sign of the Prince of Brabetz in attendance.
What did it matter if a few dead impulses, a few crippled ideals, a few blasted hopes were left strewn upon the battlefield at the end of the fortnight? What mattered if there was grave danger of one or both of them receiving heart wounds that would cling to them all their lives? What did anything matter, so long as Prince Karl of Brabetz was not there?
You will find happiness with some one else. You have loved before; you can and will love again. I I have never loved before but perhaps, like you, I shall love again. You will love again?" she demanded, her lip trembling with an irresolution she could not control. "Yes," he said calmly, "I'll love the wife of Karl Brabetz."
Tell me about it," cried Chase, his agitation so great that James looked at him in wonder. "'Gad, you seem to be interested!" "I am! Where is she I mean the Princess? And the other woman?" "Cool off, old man. People are staring at you. It's not a long story. Brabetz was shot three weeks ago at a hotel in Brussels. He'd been living there for two months, more or less, with the woman.
"I daresay it has or will. She is delightful. My father loves her. And my father the Grand Duke, I should say does not love those who cross him. One is very fortunate to have been born a prince." He thought he detected a note of bitterness in this raillery. "I can conceive of no greater fortune than to have been born Prince Karl of Brabetz," he said lightly.
It was the clipping from a Paris newspaper, announcing that the Princess Genevra was to wed Prince Karl during the Christmas holidays. He had seen the Christmas holidays come and go with the certain knowledge in his heart that they had given her to Brabetz as the most glorious present that man had ever received.
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