“It was my fault,” she interrupted, in French, and he noted that she had a German accent. Her look of condescending good-nature was not flattering to him. It said that in the mind of Her Serene Highness he and the two attendants formed a trio of inferior persons before whom she could conduct herself with almost as much freedom as before so many blocks of wood.
“No apology is necessary,” he said, with abrupt courtesy. “You wish a fitter. I’ll see that you get one at once.”
Her Serene Highness flushed and withdrew her head. “Take him away,” she called through the door, in a haughty tone, “and send a fitter.”
Grafton faced the attendants. He drew from his pocket two ten-franc pieces and gave one to each. “Have the goodness to get mademoiselle her fitter instantly,” he said.
They bowed and thanked him and he slowly returned to his sofa. Half an hour and she issued from her salon in street costume. Close behind her came an old-maidish German woman. As they reached the door, Grafton held it open. Her Serene Highness drew herself up coldly. He bowed with politeness and without impertinence, and closed the door behind them.
“Who was that lady?” he said to her fitter, hurrying past with her dresses on his arm.
“Her Serene Highness the Duchess Erica of Zweitenbourg, monsieur. She is the niece of His Royal Highness the Grand Duke Casimir.”
Grafton met her twice the next day. In the morning he was at the tomb of Napoleon. A woman—one of two walking together a short distance in front of him—dropped her handkerchief. He picked it up and overtook her.
“Pardon, mademoiselle,” he said. “Your handkerchief.” She paused. He saw that it was Her Serene Highness. At the same time she recognized him and the smile she had begun died away. She took the handkerchief with an icy “Thanks.” He dropped back, but their way happened to be his. Her companion glanced round presently; he was near enough to hear her say, “The person is following Your Serene Highness.” He came on, passed them as if unconscious of their existence, and they changed their route.
In the afternoon he was at the Louvre. He saw two women coming towards him—Her Serene Highness and her companion. As they saw him they turned abruptly into a side corridor. He came to where they had turned; there lay a handkerchief. He picked it up and noted that it was a fine one, deeply bordered with real lace. In the corner, under a ducal crown, was the initial “E.” He walked rapidly after the two women and, although they quickened their pace, he was soon beside them.