“Then what have you got?” asked the Colonel, somewhat abashed.
“Princes, generals, envoys, and heads of departments.”
“Good heavens! legions of honor and golden fleeces!”
“Just so,” said Upton, smiling at the dismay in the other's countenance; “I have had such a party as you describe to-day. Are they gone yet, Franchetti?”
“They're at coffee, your Excellency, but the Prince has ordered his carriage.”
“And you did not go near them?” asked Harcourt, in amazement.
“No; I was poorly, as you see me,” said Upton, smiling. “Pipo tells me, however, that the dinner was a good one, and I am sure they pardon my absence.”
“Foreign ease, I've no doubt; though I can't say I like it,” muttered Harcourt. “At all events, it is not for me to complain, since the accident has given me the pleasure of your society.”
“You are about the only man I could have admitted,” said Upton, with a certain graciousness of look and manner that, perhaps, detracted a little from its sincerity.
Fortunately, not so to Harcourt's eyes, for he accepted the speech in all honesty and good faith, as he said, “Thank you heartily, my boy. The welcome is better even than the dinner, and that is saying a good deal. No more wine, thank you; I 'm going to have a cigar, and, with your leave, I 'll ask for some brandy and water.”