IV. AND THE GIRL, TOO
"Now tell me all about our Italian friend," said Quentin nextmorning to Lady Frances, who had not lost her frank Americanism whenshe married Lord Bob, The handsome face of the young prince had beenin his thoughts the night before until sleep came, and then therewere dreams in which the same face appeared vaguely sinister andforeboding. He had acted on the advice of Lord Bob and had saidnothing of the Brazilian experiences.
"Prince Ugo? I supposed that every newspaper in New York had beendevoting columns to him. He is to marry an American heiress, andsome of the London journals say she is so rich that everybody elselooks poor beside her."
"Lucky dog, eh? Everybody admires him, too, it seems. Do you knowhim, Frances?"
"I've met him a number of times on the continent, but not often inLondon. He is seldom here, you know. Really, he is quite a charmingfellow."
"Yes," laconically. "Are Italian princes as cheap as they used tobe? Mary Carrolton got that nasty little one of hers for two hundredthousand, didn't she? This one looks as though he might come alittle higher. He's good-looking enough."
"Oh, Ugo is not like the Carrolton investment. You see, this one isvastly rich, and he's no end of a swell in sunny Italy. Really, thematch is the best an American girl has made over here in--oh, incenturies, I may say."
"Pocahontas made a fairly decent one, I believe, and so did FrancesThornow; but, to my limited knowledge, I think they are the onlysatisfactory matches that have been pulled off in the last fewcenturies. Strange, they both married Englishmen."
"Thank you. You don't like Italian princes, then?"
"Oh, if I could buy a steady, well-broken, tractable one, I'd takehim as an investment, perhaps, but I believe, on the whole, I'drather put the money into a general menagerie like Barnum's orForepaugh's. You get such a variety of beasts that way, you know."
"Come, now, Phil, your sarcasm is unjust. Prince Ugo is very much ofa gentleman, and Bob says he is very clever, too. Did you see muchof him last night?"
"I saw him at the club and talked a bit with him. Then I saw himwhile I slept. He is much better in the club than he is in a dream."
"You dreamed of him last night? He certainly made an impression,then," she said.
"I dreamed I saw him abusing a harmless, overworked and underfedlittle monkey on the streets of New York."
"How absurd!"
"The monkey wouldn't climb up to the window of my apartment tocollect nickels for the vilest hand-organ music a man ever heard,even in a nightmare."
"Phil Quentin, you are manufacturing that dream as you sit here.Wait till you know him better and you will like him."
"His friends, too? One of those chaps looks as if he might throw abomb with beautiful accuracy--the Laselli duke, I think. Come, now,Frances, you'll admit he's an ugly brute, won't you?"
"Yes, you are quite right, and I can't say that the count impressesme more favorably."
"I'll stake my head the duke's ancestors were brigands or somethingequally appalling. A couple of poor, foolish American girls elevatethem both to the position of money-spenders-in-chief though, Ipresume, and the newspapers will sizzle."
At dinner that evening the discussion was resumed, all those at thetable taking part. The tall young American was plainly prejudicedagainst the Italian, but his stand was a mystery to all save LordBob. Dickey Savage was laboriously non-committal until Lady Janetook sides unequivocally with Quentin. Then he vigorously defendedthe unlucky prince. Lady Saxondale and Sir James Graham, one of theguests, took pains to place the Italian in the best light possiblebefore the critical American.
"I almost forgot to tell you, Phil," suddenly cried Lady Saxondale,her pretty face beaming with excitement. "The girl he is to marry isan old flame of yours."
"Quite impossible, Lady Frances. I never had a flame."
"But she was, I'm sure."
"Are you a theosophist?" asked Phil, gaily, but he listenednevertheless. Who could she be? It seemed for the moment, as hismind swept backward, that he had possessed a hundred sweethearts."I've had no sweetheart since I began existence in the presentform."
"Good Lord!" ejaculated Dickey, solemnly and impressively.
"I'll bet my soul Frances is right," drawled Lord Bob. "She alwaysis, you know. My boy, if she says you had a sweetheart, you eitherhad one or somebody owes you one. You've never collected, perhaps."
"If he collected them he'd have a harem," observed Mr. Savage,sagely. "He's had so many he can't count 'em."
"I should think it disgusting to count them, Mr. Savage, even if hecould," said Lady Jane, severely.
"I can count mine backwards," he said.
"Beginning at one?"
"Yes, Lady Jane; one in my teens, none at present. No task, at all,to count mine."
"Won't you give me the name of that old sweetheart of mine, LadySaxondale? Whom is the prince to marry?" asked Quentin.
"Dorothy Garrison. She lived in your block seven or eight years ago,up to the time she went to Brussels with her mother. Now, do youremember?"
"You don't mean it! Little Dorothy? By George, she was a prettygirl, too. Of course, I remember her. But that was ages ago. She wasfourteen and I was nineteen. You are right, Lady Saxondale. I'llconfess to having regarded her as the fairest creature the sun evershone upon. For six solid, delicious months she was the foundationof every thought that touched my brain. And then--well, whathappened then? Oh, yes; we quarrelled and forgot each other. Soshe's the girl who's to marry the prince, is she?" Quentin's facewas serious for the moment; a far-off look of real concern came intohis eyes. He was recalling a sweet, dainty face, a girlish figure,and the days gone by.
"How odd I did not think of it before. Really, you two were dreadfulspoons in those days. Mamma used to worry for fear you'd carry outyour threat to run away with her. And now she's to be a real liveprincess." Lady Frances created a profound sensation when sheresurrected Quentin's boyhood love affair with the one American girlthat all Europe talked about at that moment. Lord Bob was excited,perhaps for the first time since he proposed to Frances Thornow.
"By Jove, old man, this is rare, devilish rare. No wonder you havesuch a deuced antipathy to the prince. Intuition must have told youthat he was to marry one of the ladies of your past."
"Why, Bob, we were children, and there was nothing to it. Truly, Ihad forgotten that pretty child--that's all she was--and I'll warrantshe wouldn't remember my name if some one spoke it in her presence.Every boy and girl has had that sort of an affair."
"She's the most beautiful creature I ever saw," cried Lady Jane,ecstatically. Dickey Savage looked sharply at her vivacious face."When did you last see her, Mr. Quentin?"
"I can't recall, but I know it was when her hair hung down her back.She left New York before she was fifteen, I'm quite sure. I think Iwas in love with a young widow fourteen years my senior, at thetime, and did not pay much heed to Dorothy's departure. She and hermother have been traveling since then?"
"They traveled for three years before Mrs. Garrison could make upher mind to settle down in Brussels. I believe she said it remindedher of Paris, only it was a little more so," said Lord Bob. "We metthem in Paris five years ago, on our wedding trip, and she wasundecided until I told her she might take a house near the king'spalace in Brussels, such as it is, and off she flew to be as closeto the crown as possible. She struck me as a gory old party whocouldn't live comfortably unless she were dabbling in blue blood.The girl was charming, though."
"She's in London now," ventured Sir James. "The papers say she cameespecially to see the boat races, but there is a pretty wellestablished belief that she came because the prince is here. Despitetheir millions, I understand it is a love match."
"I hope I may have a look at her while I'm here, just to see whattime has done for her," said Quentin.
"You may have the chance to ask if she remembers you," said Dickey.
"And if she thinks you've grown older," added Lord Bob.
"Will you tell her you a
re not married?" demanded Lady Jane.
"I'll do but one thing, judging from the way you describe thegoddess. Just stand with open mouth and marvel at her magnificence.Somewhere among my traps I have a picture of her when she wasfourteen, taken with me one afternoon at a tin-typer's. If I canfind it, I'll show it to her, just to prove that we both lived tenyears ago. She's doubtless lived so much since I saw her last thatshe'll deny an existence so far back as that."
"You won't be so deuced sarcastic when you see her, even if she isto marry a prince. I tell you, Phil, she is something worth lookingat forever," said Lord Bob.
"I never saw such eyes, such a complexion, such hair, such acarriage," cried Lady Frances.
"Has she any teeth?" asked Dickey, and was properly frowned upon byLady Jane.
"You describe her as completely in that sentence, Lady Frances, as anovelist could in eight pages," said Quentin.
"No novelist could describe her," was the answer.
"It's to be hoped no novelist may attempt it," said Quentin. "She isbeautiful beyond description, she will be a princess, and she knewme when I didn't know enough to appreciate her. Her eyes were bluein the old days, and her hair was almost black. Colors still obtain?Then we have her description in advance. Now, let's go on with theromance."
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