Of Prince Rivani he had of course heard, but he had not seen him yet, and it was with a languid kind of curiosity that he followed the footman into the salon.
There were about fifteen or twenty gentlemen present, most of them smoking cigarettes, and from their midst a tall, patrician-looking figure came to meet him.
Blair, though he had heard of the prince's popularity and his good looks, was not prepared for so handsome a face; and he was looking at him with interest when he was struck by the expression of the prince's eye. It seemed as if he were regarding Blair with a scrutiny far and away beyond that usual on the part of a host greeting a guest for the first time. The prince's face, too, was pale, and his lips compressed as if by some suppressed emotion. But his courtesy was perfection.
"I am honored, Lord Ferrers," he said bowing, as he just touched Blair's hand. "Let me introduce you to some friends of mine," and he led Blair round the room, making him known to one and another. There were some Englishmen there—one meets them everywhere, from Kamtchatka to the plains of Loo!-and he got into conversation with one and another.
Presently, just as he was thinking of taking his leave, the prince came up to him.
"Are you fond of art, Lord Ferrers?" he inquired, in a grave voice.
Blair shook his head.
"I like a good picture, but I don't know anything about it," he said. "You have a very fine collection, have you not?"
The prince shrugged his shoulders.