"Tell the Prince who I am," she cried, with a roguish laugh; and then,
as I still stood silent, she courtesied again to the ground before him.
"Rene, only daughter of the Compte de Pontiers, may it please your
Highness," she murmured.
He would have taken her to his arms in a rush of delight, but she
ceremoniously waved him back.
"Present us with all due form and etiquette, madame."
It was a strange introduction, for three times did they bow with court
formality to each other, and then the rustic lovers came to life again,
and he clasped her in his arms.
"If you knew he was such an exalted personage, and knew me not to be a
poor actress upon a visit, as I pretended," Rene cried, turning towards
me, "why did you insist that I must break away from happiness because of
my position? Surely we are what our world calls eligibles?"
And while I, in a generous instant, would have confessed the whole
truth, a flush came over her face.
"My father must never know of this foolish masquerade," she said,
gravely.
"You never met Prince Ferdinand until two minutes since," I answered.
"Is it not so? We will say that his Highness's infatuation for an
actress died the natural death of most infatuations; and then, a little
later, make known his coming alliance with no less a lady than Rene,
daughter of the Compte de Pontiers."
So ended Prince Ferdinand's entanglement. So ended my romantic mission
that was such a successful failure; and now sometimes when I admire that
diamond necklace I wonder if an accusation might not be formulated
against me for obtaining jewels under false pretences. And yet--why?