“My dear sir, I beg that you will not crawl; you would bring disgrace upon me. I should be suspected of having so instructed you.”
“To oblige you, I’ll try to forego the pleasure of treating a sovereign as a sovereign should be treated. But it will be a sacrifice.”
When their names were sent up, the command came for both together. “Now,” whispered Zeppstein, as they stood at the door of the cabinet, “don’t forget my instructions.” He knocked and got his hips and shoulders ready for his presence-bow. “You must enter first,” he whispered.
Grafton walked in. The Grand Duke was standing facing the door with Erica a few feet away to his left. Grafton advanced towards Erica. “His Royal Highness first,” whispered Zeppstein, plucking at his sleeve.
Grafton went on to Erica and put out his hand. “How d’ye do?” he said. “I’m glad to see you again.” But his face was sad and his voice lifeless. He turned to the Grand Duke. They shook hands, and the Grand Duke laughed familiarly. Baron Zeppstein stood aghast.
“Her Serene Highness has been telling me—” began the Grand Duke.
“Yes; Baron Zeppstein here explained to me,” interrupted Grafton. “But it was nothing; your niece was in no danger—”
Zeppstein had sidled behind him and now whispered, “Not ‘you,’ but ‘Your Royal Highness,’ not ‘your niece,’ but ‘Her Serene Highness,’ and don’t interrupt!”
“What’s Zeppstein whispering?” asked the Grand Duke, sharply.
“He’s very kindly instructing me in etiquette, but”—here Grafton hesitated, with a twinkle in his eyes—“I’ve been so differently bred in America that I fear I’m not reflecting credit upon him.”