John had moved half a step forward when he felt the prince's eyes fixed upon him, and was conscious of a sudden sense of ignorance, almost of uncouthness. It was a play which they were rehearsing, of course! It was a damnable thing to see Louise taken into that cold and obviously unreal embrace, but it was only a play. It was part of her work.
John resumed his seat and folded his arms. With the embrace had fallen an imaginary curtain, and the rehearsal was over. They were all crowded together, talking, in the center of the stage. The prince, who had stepped across the footlights, made his way to where John was sitting.
"So you have deserted Cumberland for a time?" he courteously inquired.
"I came up last night," John replied.
"You are making a long stay?"
John hesitated. He felt that no one knew less of his movements than he himself. His eyes had wandered to where Louise and Graillot were talking.
"I can scarcely tell yet. I have made no plans."
"London, at this season of the year," the prince observed, "is scarcely at its best."
John smiled.
"I am afraid," he said, "that I am not critical. It is eight years since I was here last, on my way down from Oxford."