Nella was indeed beautiful that afternoon. The beauty of even the
most beautiful woman ebbs and flows from hour to hour. Nella's
this afternoon was at the flood. Vivacious, alert, imperious, and yet
ineffably sweet, she seemed to radiate the very joy and exuberance
of life.

'I have forgotten,' he said.

'You have forgotten! That is surely very wrong of you? You gave
me to understand that it was something terribly important. But of
course I knew it couldn't be, because no man, and especially no
Prince, ever discussed anything really important with a woman.'

'Recollect, Miss Racksole, that this aftemoon, here, I am not the
Prince.'

'You are Count Steenbock, is that it?'

He started. 'For you only,' he said, unconsciously lowering his
voice. 'Miss Racksole, I particularly wish that no one here should
know that I was in Paris last spring.'

'An affair of State?' she smiled.

'An affair of State,' he replied soberly. 'Even Dimmock doesn't
know. It was strange that we should be fellow guests at that quiet
out-of-the-way hotel - strange but delightful. I shall never forget
that rainy afternoon that we spent together in the Museum of the
Trocadéro. Let us talk about that.'