“I think his daughter decidedly the most beautiful woman in the house,” said the Duke of Lillespont as they threaded their way through the crowd, closely followed by Alexander. “Unquestionably the most beautiful woman here,” repeated His Grace, as if challenging contradiction.
“Do you? I am rather surprised to hear you say so,” observed Lord John.
“The most beautiful woman I have ever seen—that is, if one may call so young a creature a woman at all,” he added.
“Young?” repeated Lord John, raising his eyebrows. “Ah, but then you are at a time of life when all women’s ages are alike, I suppose.”
And, saying this in rather a low tone, Lord John paused before a gentleman and lady seated on a sofa, around which quite a court of worshippers were gathered.
Waiting for a few minutes for a fair opportunity, and then gently making his way through the circle, Lord John took his protégé, and said:
“Prince, permit me to present to your Highness the Duke of Lillespont; Duke,—Prince Waldemar Pullmynoseoff!”
And, before the young duke could recover from his surprise and disappointment, he found himself bowing deeply before a little dry, rusty, scrubby, hairy old gentleman, who looked more like a very aged and very cunning monkey than a man, not to say a prince. However, he was certainly a European celebrity, filled full of diplomacy, covered over with orders, and possessed a string of titles—all told—a yard and a quarter long. So the duke bolted his disappointment and bowed his body low before the royal and venerable mummy.
And then he was presented to a little, withered woman, very like the prince, and looking very little younger, but so covered with jewels of all sizes and colors that she presented the idea of an elderly fire-fly.
Again the duke bowed low, and exerted himself to be agreeable, but he was very glad when the coming up of another party gave him an excuse to make his final bow and withdraw.