CHAPTER XVII
DEFEAT FOR FALKENBERG
Among the palms of Madame Christophor's conservatory, Julien and Lady Anne were living through a brief new chapter of their history. The wonderful thing had come to them. It was amazing—almost unrealizable! A new glamor enveloped the merest trifles. They spoke in halting sentences, they were at times almost incoherent. The marvel of it was so great!
Lady Anne was the first to hear the sound of approaching footsteps. She listened. It was not Madame Christophor who returned. She laid her hand upon Julien's arm.
"It is Jean, the butler, who comes," she whispered. "He conducts some one."
On the threshold of the winter-garden, only a short distance away, they heard Jean's voice.
"Monsieur le Prince will find Sir Julien Portel a few steps further on."
"Monsieur le Prince!" Anne faltered, with whitening face. "Julien, what does it mean?"
Julien rose to his feet. The footsteps were close at hand now upon the tessellated pavement. Then through the drooping palm boughs they saw him. Julien was standing tense and prepared, his uninjured arm was ready to strike. Falkenberg was there.
"You!" Julien exclaimed. "Well?"