style="font-size:15px;"> The prince did not answer him, but offered his arm to his wife, to escort her to the table. She motioned me to sit on her right hand, and began to prattle gently to me about the court of Glottenberg. The prince put in a word here and there, and Dumergue laughed appreciatively whenever the princess’ descriptions were neat and appropriate – at least, so I interpreted his delicate flattery.
I enjoyed myself very much. The princess was evidently, to judge from her conversation, a little Puritan, and I always love a pretty Puritan. That rogue Dumergue agreed with all her views, and the prince allowed his silence to pass for assent.
“We do try at court,” she ended by saying, “to set an example to society; and, as the king is unmarried, of course I have to do a great deal.”
At this moment, a servant entered, bearing a card on a salver. He approached the princess.
“A gentleman desires the honor of an audience with Her Royal Highness,” he announced.
“At this time of night!” exclaimed the princess.
“He says his business will not bear delay, and prays for a interview.”
“All business will bear delay,” said the prince, “and generally be the better for it. Who is he?”
“The Baron de Barbot.”
“Oh, I must see him,” cried the princess. “Why, he is a dear friend of ours.”
I had detected a rapid glance pass between Dumergue and the prince. The latter then answered:
“Yes, we must see Barbot. If you will go to the drawing room, I’ll take your message myself.”
“That is kind of you,” said the princess, retiring.
“Give me the card,” said the prince, “and ask the baron to be kind enough to wait a few minutes.”
The servant went out, and the prince turned to me.
“Why didn’t you kill him, Mr. Jason?” he asked.
“Is it – ” I began.
“Yes, it’s your baron,” said Dumergue.
“It’s really a little awkward,” said the prince, as though gently remonstrating with fate. “We had arranged it all so pleasantly.”
“It would upset the princess,” said Dumergue.
“What upsets the princess upsets me,” said the prince. “I am a devoted husband, Mr. Jason.”
“If there is anything I can do, sir,” said I, “rely on me.”
“You overwhelm me,” said the prince. “Is there anything, Dumergue?”
“Why, yes, sir. Mr. Jason was at the ball. Why should he have fought, if he wasn’t?”
“You are right, Dumergue. Mr. Jason, you were at the ball.”
“But, sir, I – I don’t know anything about the ball.”
“It was just like other balls – other masked balls,” said Dumergue.
“Perhaps a little more so,” added the prince, lighting a cigarette.
“There was a scandal at the last one,” Dumergue continued, “and the king strictly forbade anyone connected with the court to go, under pain of his severe displeasure. There had been a rumor that a royal prince was at the one before, and consequently – ”
“That royal prince was specially commanded not to go to this one,” said the prince.
“It was bad enough,” resumed Dumergue, “that it should be discovered that the princess’ favorite lady-in-waiting, the Countess von Hohstein – ”
“Who bore such a high character,” interjected the prince.
“Did go, and, moreover, went under the escort of an unknown gentleman – a gentleman whose name she refused to give.”
“Was that discovered?” said I.
“It was. This baron detected her, and, with a view, as we have reason to believe, to compelling her companion to declare himself, publicly insulted her.”
“Whereupon,” said the prince, “you very properly knocked him down, Mr. Jason.”
“I beg your pardon, sir?”
“The princess,” continued Dumergue, “was terribly agitated and annoyed at the scandal and the duel which followed. And of course the countess left the court, and returned to England.”
“To England?”
“Yes; she was a Miss Mason. The king ennobled her at the princess’ request.”
I smiled and said:
“And now there is a question about who her escort was?”
“There is,” said Dumergue. “It is believed that the baron entertains an extraordinary idea that the gentleman in question was no other than – ”
“Myself,” said the prince, throwing away his cigarette.
I remembered the baron’s strange questions before the duel.
“Dispose of me as you please, sir,” said I.
“Then you were at the ball, and knocked the baron down!” exclaimed Dumergue.
“A thousand thanks,” said the prince.
“But what are we to do with him now, sir?” asked Dumergue. “The princess will be expecting him.”
“I will go and tell the princess of Mr. Jason’s confession. You go with Mr. Jason, and tell the baron that the princess cannot receive him. I want him to see Mr. Jason.”
“But, sir,” said I, “I didn’t fight under my own name.”
The prince was already gone, and Dumergue was halfway down the stairs. I followed the latter.
We found the baron in the smoking room, taking a cup of coffee. A couple of men sat talking on a settee near him; otherwise the room was empty.
Dumergue went up to the baron, I following a step or two behind him. The baron rose and bowed coldly.
“I am charged,” said Dumergue, “to express His Royal Highness’ regrets that Her Royal Highness cannot have the pleasure of receiving you. She has retired to her apartments.”
“The servant told me she was at supper.”
“He was misinformed.”
“I’m not to be put off like that. I’ll have a refusal from the princess herself.”
“I will inform His Royal Highness.”
The baron was about to answer, when he caught sight of me.
“Ah,
