"Yes, on our ride to the meet, or to the 'Pheasantry.'"

"Oh, I forgot your preciseness, Prince, in the matter of appointments.

Very well, on our ride. We go down here."

They found themselves at the back of the Schloss. Carpeted steps led from a gallery hung with big pictures, down into the white-and-gold garden room, behind the gla.s.s door of which lay the terrace.

Everything--the big crystal l.u.s.tres, which hung from the centre of the high, white-festooned ceiling, the regularly arranged arm-chairs with gilt frames and fancy upholstering, the heavy white silk curtains, the elaborate clock and the vases and gilt lamps on the white marble chimneypiece in front of the tall looking-gla.s.s, the ma.s.sive, lion-footed gilt candelabra which towered on either side of the entrance--everything reminded Klaus Heinrich of the Old Schloss, of the Representation Chamber, in which he had played his part from his youth up; only that the candles here were shams, with yellow electric bulbs instead of wicks, and that everything of the Spoelmanns' was new and smart in Schloss Delphinenort. A swan's-down footman was putting the last touch to the tea-table in a corner of the room; Klaus Heinrich noticed the electric kettle about which he had read in the _Courier_.

"Has Mr. Spoelmann been told?" asked the daughter of the house.... The butler bowed. "Then there's nothing," she said quickly and half mockingly, "to prevent us from taking our places and beginning without him. Come, Countess! I advise you, Prince, to unbuckle your sword, unless there are reasons unknown to me for your not doing so...."

"Thanks," said Klaus Heinrich, "no, there is no reason why I shouldn't."

And he was angry with himself for not being smart enough to think of a more adroit answer.

The footman took his sword, and carried it off. They took their seats at the tea-table with the help of the butler, who held the backs and pushed the chairs under them. Then he retired to the top of the steps, where he remained in an elegant att.i.tude.

"I must tell you, Prince," said Miss Spoelmann, pouring the water into the pot, "that my father won't drink any tea which I have not made with my own hands. He distrusts all tea which is handed round ready-made in cups. That is barred with us. You'll have to put up with it."

"Oh, I like it much better like this," said Klaus Heinrich, "it's much more comfortable and free-and-easy at a family tea like this...." He broke off, and wondered why as he spoke these words a side-glance of hatred lighted on him from the eyes of Countess Lowenjoul. "And your course of study?" he asked. "May I ask about it? It's mathematics, I know. Don't you find it too much? Isn't it terribly brain-racking?"

"Absolutely not," she said. "It's just splendid; it's like playing in the breezes, so to speak, or rather out of the breezes, in a dust-free atmosphere. It's as cool there as in the Adirondacks."

"The what?"

"The Adirondacks. That's geography, Prince. Mountains over in the States, with lovely snowfields. We have a country cottage there, where we go in May. In summer we used to go to the sea-side."

"At any rate," he said, "I can testify to your zeal in your studies. You do not like being prevented from arriving punctually at your lectures. I haven't yet asked you whether you reached that one the other day up to time."

"The other day?"

"Yes, a week or two ago. After the contretemps with the change of guard."

"Dear, dear, Prince, now you are beginning that too. That story seems to have reached from hut to palace. Had I known what a bother was going to come of it, I would rather have gone three times round the whole Schlossplatz. It even got into the newspapers, I'm told. And now of course the whole town thinks I am a regular fiend for temper and rudeness. But I am the most peaceful creature in the world, and only don't like being ordered about. Am I a fiend, Countess? I demand a truthful answer."

"No, you're an angel," said Countess Lowenjoul.

"H'm--angel, that's too much, that's too far the other way, Countess...."

"No," said Klaus Heinrich, "no, not too far. I entirely believe the Countess...."

"I'm much honoured. But how did your Highness hear about the adventure?

Through the newspapers?"

"I was an eye-witness of it," said Klaus Heinrich.

"An eye-witness?"

"Yes. I happened to be standing at the window of the officers' mess, and saw the whole thing from beginning to end."

Miss Spoelmann blushed. There was no doubt about it, the pale skin of her face deepened in colour.

"Well, Prince," she said, "I a.s.sume that you had nothing better to do at the moment."

"Better?" he cried. "But it was a splendid sight. I give you my word that never in my life ..."

Percival, who was lying with his forepaws crossed, by Miss Spoelmann, raised his head with a look of tense expectancy and beat the carpet with his tail. At the same moment the butler began to run, as fast as his ponderous frame would let him, down the steps to the lofty side-door over against the tea-table, and swiftly pulled aside the whole silk portiere, sticking his double chin the while into the air with a majestic expression. Samuel Spoelmann, the millionaire, walked in.

He was a man of neat build with a strange face. He was clean shaven, with red cheeks and a prominent nose, his little eyes were of a metallic blue-black, like those of little children and animals, and had an absent and peevish look. The upper part of his head was bald, but behind and on his temples Mr. Spoelmann had a quant.i.ty of grey hair, dressed in a fashion not often seen among us. He wore it neither short nor long, but brushed up, sticking out, though cropped on the nape and round his ears.

His mouth was small and finely chiselled. Dressed in a black frock-coat with a velvet waistcoat on which lay a long, thin, old-fashioned watch-chain, and soft slippers on his feet, he advanced quickly to the tea-table with a cross and pre-occupied expression on his face; but his face cleared up, it regained composure and tenderness when he caught sight of his daughter. Imma had gone to meet him.

"Greeting, most excellent father," she said, and throwing her brown little arms, in their loose brick-coloured hanging sleeves, round his neck, she kissed him on the bald spot which he offered her as he inclined his head.

"Of course you knew," she continued, "that Prince Klaus Heinrich was coming to tea with us to-day?"

"No; I'm delighted, delighted," said Mr. Spoelmann no less readily and in a grating voice. "Please don't move!" he said at once. And while he shook hands (Mr. Spoelmann's hand was thin and half-covered by his unstarched white cuff) with the Prince, who was standing modestly by the table, he nodded repeatedly to one side or the other. That was his way of greeting Klaus Heinrich. He was an alien, an invalid, and a man apart as regards wealth. He was forgiven and nothing further was expected of him--Klaus Heinrich recognized the fact, and took pains to recover his self-control.

"You are at home here in a sense," added Mr. Spoelmann, cutting the conversation short, and a pa.s.sing gleam of malice played round his clean-shaven mouth. Then he gave the others an example by sitting down.

It was the chair between Imma and Klaus Heinrich, opposite the Countess and the veranda door, which the butler pushed under him.

As Mr. Spoelmann showed no intention of apologizing for his unpunctuality, Klaus Heinrich said: "I am sorry to hear that you are unwell this morning, Mr. Spoelmann. I hope you are better."

"Thanks, better, not but all right," answered Mr. Spoelmann crossly.

"How many spoonfuls did you put in?" he asked his daughter. He was alluding to the tea.

She had filled his cup, and she handed it to him.

"Four," said she. "One for each person. n.o.body shall say that I stint my grey-haired father."

"What's that?" answered Mr. Spoelmann. "I'm not grey-haired. You ought to have your tongue clipped." And he took from a silver box a kind of rusk which seemed to be his own special dainty, broke it and dipped it peevishly in the golden tea, which he, like his daughter, drank without milk or sugar.

Klaus Heinrich began over again: "I am much excited at the prospect of seeing your collection, Mr. Spoelmann."

"All right," answered Mr. Spoelmann. "So you want to see my gla.s.s? Are you an amateur? A collector perhaps?"

"No," said Klaus Heinrich, "my love for gla.s.s has not extended to my becoming a collector."

"No time?" asked Mr. Spoelmann. "Do your military duties take so much time?"

Klaus Heinrich answered: "I'm no longer on the active list, Mr.

Spoelmann. I am _a la suite_ of my regiment. I wear the uniform, that's all."

"I see, make believe," said Mr. Spoelmann harshly. "What do you do all day, then?"

Klaus Heinrich had stopped drinking tea, had pushed his things away in the course of the conversation which demanded his undivided attention.

He sat upright and defended himself, feeling the while that Imma Spoelmann's big, black, searching eyes were resting on him.

"I have duties at Court, with the ceremonies and big occasions. I have also to represent the State in a military capacity, at the swearing-in of recruits and the presentation of colours. Then I have to hold levees as deputy for my brother, the Grand Duke. And then there are little journeys on duty to the provincial centres for unveilings and dedications and other public solemnities."

"I see," said Mr. Spoelmann. "Ceremonies, solemnities, food for spectators. No, that sort of thing's beyond me. I tell you once for all, that I wouldn't give a farthing for your calling. That's my standpoint, sir."