She found it on the whole a good position, unassailable, with many desirable perquisites. She decided, no doubt, that life owed her such tremendous arrears of happiness that she could never hope to collect them except by devoting her whole time to it; and devote her whole time to it she did, in good earnest. The years, in their passage, erased certain lines from her face and restored the curves to her figure—indeed, it came to be much more than a restoration!—but they could not restore the colour to her hair nor the lightness to her heart. She looked at mankind from a cynical altitude of worldly wisdom; her wit grew keen and swift as d'Artagnan's rapier; her bon-mots had a way of passing into proverbs, or of being stolen by more distinguished contemporaries. She took her revenge upon society as completely as she could, yet without bitterness. Indeed, it is probable that, could she have ordered her life anew, she would not have ordered it differently.
Such, then, was the Dowager Duchess of Markheim, as she sat gazing thoughtfully from her window, pondering the situation. She was fully alive to the fact that American girls are always a menace to the peace of noble families; besides, she was not at all satisfied with the progress—or, rather, lack of progress—which the Prince had made in the delicate negotiation entrusted to his hands. In a word, she decided that, from every point of view, it were wise for her to be herself upon the scene—and so much nearer her beloved Ostend! Therefore, being of that superior order of woman who never has to make up her mind but once, she forthwith gave orders for the departure.
It consequently happened, on the morning following the events narrated in the previous chapter, that there was another distinguished arrival at the Grand Hôtel Royal, to the delight and despair of Monsieur Pelletan.
"I shall need an apartment of at least five rooms, not higher than the second floor," announced the duchess.
"If Madame la Duchesse had only notified us of t'is honour!" protested Pelletan, with upraised hands. "I swear t'at I haff not'ing— not'ing—not one single apartment wort'y off madame—not efen one leetle room up under t'e gutters."
"Nonsense!" she interrupted, vigorously. "I have heard all that a hundred times at least. Which apartment has my nephew?"
"Madame's nephew?"
"Certainly, imbecile! Monsieur le Prince de Markeld."
"Oh," cried Pelletan. "Monsieur le Prince hass apartment B de luxe."
"And so has twice as much room as he needs, of course. Well, take my luggage up there, wherever it is. At my age, one is beyond the reach of scandal, even at a Dutch bathing-resort. Where is Monsieur le Prince?"