“Yes—in saying the baron might be right?”
“Why, yes; entirely so,” he answered, puzzled by the intensity of her look.
She took a deep breath and turned her head away for an instant.
And then they were at the table.
When they were seated, he found himself still at her right. Beyond her was a vacant place, evidently for Danilo, while beyond that, and to the right of the king, sat the countess. Selden smiled to find his surmise correct—even at eighty, the king had not lost interest in pretty women!
Mrs. Davis was at the king’s left, while beyond her, the baron, the Princess Anna and young Davis, who had been adroitly detached from the countess, completed the company.
The king, with patriarchal dignity, asked grace in his native tongue, somewhat to the confusion of his guests. Selden could see Mrs. Davis regarding with a startled eye the red cap which the king made no motion to remove. Then came the soup, and she was startled again to see the Princess Anna rise and serve her father.
“In our country,” the king explained, with a smile, seeing her glance, “it is the custom for the daughters to serve their parents. I consider it a very good custom, and my daughters have always followed it. As you know,” he went on, tasting the soup with an approving smack of the lips, “I have a daughter who is a queen, but when she comes to visit her father, she still gives him to eat.”
The picture of a queen ladling out the soup was too much for Mrs. Davis, and she gasped audibly. Or perhaps it was the soup, which she at that moment tasted. The king had brought his native chef with him from Goritza, and this soupe à l’oignon was one of his masterpieces, but it was rather a shock to the unaccustomed palate, especially if the cheese was a little strong. But since it came from a royal kitchen, Mrs. Davis battled with it manfully. The king asked for a second serving.
It was at that moment the prince appeared.