His face grew pale and his lips contracted, and he opened his lips as if to speak, but he remained silent for a moment, then said:
"I must dress, or I shall be late," and left the room.
On his way he passed the door of Margaret's painting-room, and as he did so the princess' maid came out. She started and stepped back with a courtesy, leaving the door open. Margaret came to the door to say something to the maid, and seeing the prince, stopped short.
For a moment they looked at each other without saying anything; then he bowed and drew a little nearer, and as the servant sped noiselessly away, said in a low voice, full of respect and reverence:
"Miss Leslie, will you forget what I said last night? No, not forget, but remember that I will not speak again without your permission?"
Margaret inclined her head.
"You are my mother's guest, as well as the woman I love, and I will keep the silence you commanded! You will honor us with your company at table?"
Margaret could find no words, but she inclined her head in assent, and the prince, with a low bow, which seemed as eloquent of gratitude and worship as the most ardent words could have been, left her.
That night, while the rest gathered round her, vying with each other for a word or a smile, the prince kept away from her side. Only twice did he address her; once to bring her a fan when the room grew hot; and the second time, to lay a shawl by her side when, the windows having been opened, the temperature changed rapidly.
The days glided on. Fresh additions were made to the party, but Margaret's popularity did not decrease. Fame, that had been prophesied for her, came, for her picture had been exhibited.