And Alexander Lyon, or Lord Killcrichtoun, smiled as he heard this.
While they spoke several of their acquaintances came lounging up. One of them, a fair young man with straw-colored hair and mustache, spoke:
“We have just seen the loveliest little creature. Can any of you tell who she is?”
“Now, in the first place,” said Leslie, maliciously, “where there are so many lovely creatures present, how are we to know which you mean?”
“Oh, you cannot mistake if you have seen her! the most perfect beauty of the season. She wore—there now I cannot tell you what she wore: but her dress was the most elegant as she was the most beautiful in the room,” persisted the young man, pulling at his fair mustache.
“Now look here, Duke—taste in beauty and taste in dress differ so much, you know. How can I tell what individual girl you mean when you talk of the most beautiful creature in the most elegant toilet in the room? Why, there are hundreds of beautiful women in elegant toilets present, and each one of them may be the most beautiful and the most elegant to some one else’s particular fancy.”
“Ah! bah, Leslie, that may be all very true of commonplace beauties; but I tell you, and you know it is true, that there are some beauties whom every body acknowledges to be pre-eminent; and of such is the sweet creature who passed here like a beam of sunshine—an exquisite creature! Stop chaffing now and tell me, if you know, who she is.”
“Was she leaning on the arm of a tall, gray-haired gentleman?” asked Leslie, laughing.
“Yes! yes!”
“Oh, then, yes, I know her. She is the Princess Shirra, daughter of Prince Waldemar Pullmynoseoff. He is here on a visit; some say on a private mission. Her Majesty received him yesterday.”