When the Princess and I entered the Royal Box that night the applause
was instant and enthusiastic. I kept a bit in the rear; the greeting
was for her. And she smiled that conquering smile of hers that went
straight to every individual in the audience as a personal
acknowledgment. I had seen it frequently in the past month; yet, every
time, to marvel only the more. Small wonder, indeed, that she was the
toast of the Nation and the pride of the King. A million pities the
Salic Law barred her from the succession. What a Queen Regnant she
would make! Aye, what a Queen Consort she would be! What a wife!
Then the last high note of the National Air blared out and the
Princess, turning quickly, caught my look and straightway read my
thoughts. A sudden flush swept over her face and neck and she dropped
her eyes. Silently I placed a chair for her; as she took it, her bare
arm rested against my hand. The effect on me, in the stress of my
feelings at that moment, is indescribable. I know I gasped--and my
throat got hot and my heart pounded in sharp pain.
But I did not withdraw my hand--nor did the Princess remove her arm.
Its soft, warm flesh pressed against my fingers--the perfume of her
hair enveloped my face--the beat of her bosom was just below me.
A fierce impulse seized me to take her in my arms--there, before them
all, the Court and the Capital. Reason told me to step back. Yet I
could not. Instead, I gripped the chair fiercely, and, by that very
act, pushed my fingers only more closely against her.
Was I dreaming--or did I feel an answering pressure, not once but twice
repeated. I was sure of it. I bent forward. Quickly she looked up at
me with eyes half closed.
"How cold your hand is, Armand," she said.
"Does it chill you, dear?" I whispered.
She smiled. "It never could do that," she answered. "But won't you
sit beside me, now?"
"Yes, I suppose so," I said reluctantly. "Only, I'm nearer you as I
am."
Then I took my chair, drawing it a trifle in the rear, so, being
obliged to lean forward, I would be closer to her and could speak
softly in her ear.
"You're very bold, Armand; you are always doing things so publicly,"
she said.
"It was an accident--at first."
"And afterward, sir?"
"Afterward, I was powerless."
"My arm would not believe you."
"Powerless to remove my hand, I mean."
"Powerlessness, with you, has queer manifestations," she said.
"Yes--sometimes it's passive and sometimes active."
"It was active, I suppose, that day in the King's cabinet, when you
gave me that cousinly kiss."
"If we were not so public I would----"
She looked at me with the most daring invitation. "It is because we
are so public that you are permitted to sit so near."
"Then, why blame me if I take the only opportunities you give me?" I
asked.
She half closed her eyes and looked at me, side-long, through her
lashes.
"Have I ever blamed you?" she asked.
"Dehra," said I, "if you look at me like that I shall kiss you now."
She closed her eyes a trifle more. "Where, Armand?" she said. "You
have been kissing my hair every time I let it touch your lips."
"Let it touch them again, then," I whispered.
She turned her head sharply from me and, then, slowly back again; and
her perfumed tresses, dressed low on her neck, brushed full and hard
across my face, from cheek to cheek.
"There, cousin," said she; "am I not good?"
"Not entirely, when you call me 'cousin,'" I said, looking her in the
eyes.
"Your Highness, then," she smiled.
"Worse still."
"Marshal."
"No better."
"Marshal would please most men," she said.
"There is only one name from you will please me, now," I answered.
She quite closed her eyes. "You are an autocrat to-night, Armand," she
murmured.
"I'm your lover, sweetheart; your lover to-night and always," I said
impetuously.
She opened her eyes wide and looked into mine with that calm, deep
search which only a good woman has power to use. I knew, and trembling
waited. What she saw in my eyes then she would see there always--in
storm, in sunshine--in youth and in old age.
Then, suddenly, her glance dropped and a blush stole slowly across her
cheek.
"To me, dearest," she said softly, "you have been a lover since that
day in the forest when you were only Captain Smith."
I bowed my head. "You Princess of women," I said. "How near I was to
losing you."
She turned and deliberately let her hair rest on my face a moment.
"There, dear," said she, "is my first kiss to you. I shall have to
wait a bit for yours to me."
"And you really want my kiss, Dehra?" I asked doubtingly. Small
wonder, indeed, I was slow to realize my fortune.
"You great stupid," she laughed. "Can't you understand I have wanted
it for six long years?"
"I think," said I, "I'm dreaming."
"For a dreamer, you're wonderfully brave," she said. "Do you
appreciate that you had the audacity to propose to the Princess Royal
of Valeria while she sat in the Royal Box before all the fashion of
Dornlitz?"
"My dear," said I, "I would propose to her a dozen times under like
conditions if I thought, at the end, she would do as she has done
to-night."
"If she had known that, she might have put you to the test."
"It would have made her wait only the longer for that kiss she wants,"
I said.
"Oh, I fancy, sir, she could have had your kiss without accepting you.
She needed only to give you half a chance."
"I think," said I, "even less than half a chance from you, dear, would
have been successful."
She studied her fan a moment. "From me, _only_?" she asked.
"From you, only," I said. "It would require a trifle more than half a
chance from anyone else."
"Even from the Lady Helen Radnor?" she asked.
I watched her face a moment. There was, I felt, only one way to play
this out.
"Well," I answered, "it might be that an even half chance would suffice
from her."
"It took rather less than that at the Birthday Ball, didn't it?"
I had the grace to keep silent--or, maybe, I was too surprised to know
an answer. I did not have the courage to meet her eyes. I stared into
the audience, seeing no one, thinking much--hoping she would speak; but
she did not.
Presently I turned, looking like a whipped child, I know, and met
Dehra's smiling face.
"Tie my slipper, dear," she said, "the ribbon has come undone."
"You sweetheart!" I said. "You sweetheart!"
She drew her gown back from the footstool, and I slowly tightened the
silken bands over the high-arched instep--very slowly, I confess.
"You're very naughty, Armand," she said, shaking her head in mock
reproof.
"Doesn't the other shoe need fastening?" I asked.
"No, sir--and, if it did, I would have the Countess tie it."
"Bother the Countess," I said. (The Countess Giska was the Princess's
chief Lady in Waiting--and she and my aide-de-camp, Moore, were in the
rear of the Box, which, fortunately, was sufficiently deep to put them
out of ear-shot.)
"Or, I might ask Major Moore. I think he would be glad to do it," she
said.
"He would be a most extraordinary Irishman if he were not more than
glad," I said. "But, when I'm around, Dehra, the pleasure is mine
alone."
"Goodness, Armand, you would not be jealous?" she mocked.
"I don't know what it's called," said I, "but that's it."
"Haven't you ever been jealous, dear?" she asked.
"I never cared enough for a girl to be jealous," I said.
"I fancy you've cared for so many you had no time to entertain the
Green-eyed Monster," she said.