She was worth winning indeed, let the fight be as stiff as it might. Victory now meant a life full of radiant happiness with her—a veritable queen among women. Let the price be what it might, it was worth paying to see the light of loving gratitude which would spring to her lovely face when I should claim her for my own and take her in my arms and tell her that my ways had conquered when hers had failed, and——
I had reached somewhere about that point when my rhapsodical reverie was interrupted by a knock and the servant entered. I sprang to my feet eagerly.
“His Highness Prince Kalkov to see you, monsieur,” he said, and in came the Prince, hands extended and face beaming, as if in genuine hearty welcome.
“My dear M. Denver, I cannot say how glad I am to see you back again,” and he seized my hands and shook them warmly. “I have been really anxious, painfully anxious, about you.”
For the life of me I could not for the moment shake myself free from the chagrin and disappointment caused by his arrival and play up to the part of appearing glad to see him.
“I am very glad to get back, Prince, I can assure you,” I said, with a sort of tongue-tying hesitation, as his sharp eyes were playing about my face like the blade of a skilful fencer round a novice.
“I thank my God you are alive and well, and have suffered no more hurt than the loss of your beard. How it has changed you!” and as he looked at me his grim wily old features relaxed into a smile.
“Yes, I had to shave,” I said.
“You are the Emperor no longer, monsieur. No one will make that mistake again.”
“Thank God for that. I don’t care for the part at all.”