their eyes met, she raised a red rose, which she had taken from the
silver vase, casually to her lips, and then passed out, but Paul knew
she had meant the kiss for him, and his whole being was uplifted.

It was still pouring with rain. No possible excuse to smoke on the
terrace. It might be wiser to stay in the hall. Surely Dmitry would
come with some message before very long, if he was patient and waited
her pleasure. But ten o'clock struck and there was no sign. Only the
English youth, Percy Trevellian, had got into conversation with him,
and was proposing billiards to pass the time.

Paul loved billiards--but not to-night. Heavens! what an idea! Go off
to the billiard-room--now--to-night!

He said he had a headache, and answered rather shortly in fact, and
then, to escape further importunity, went up to his sitting-room,
there to await the turn of events, leaving poor little Mabel
Trevellian gazing after him with longing eyes.

"Did you see at dinner how he stared at that foreign person, mamma?"
she said. "Men are such fools! Clarkson told me, as she fastened my
dress to-night, she'd heard she was some Grand Duchess, or Queen,
travelling incognito for her health. Very plain and odd-looking,
didn't you think so, mamma? And quite old!"

"No, dear. Most distinguished. Not a girl, of course, but quite the
appearance of a Princess," said Mabel's mother, who had seen the
world.

Paul meanwhile paced his room--an anxious excitement was now his