“Come then,” said the General, offering his arm to Drusilla.
“Pardon me, sir, if you please. I will have the honor to attend Madam!” exclaimed Prince Ernest.
With a bow and a queer smile the General gave way.
And the prince bending before the beauty, took her hand and drew her arm within his own and led her on.
And Alexander from his covert saw all this; and breathing maledictions, followed them, first to the presence of the ambassador and ambassadress, before whom they paused to make their adieux, then to the cloak room, where he saw Prince Ernest take Drusilla’s bouquet and hold it with one hand, while with the other hand he carefully wrapped her in her mantle; then he followed them down-stairs to the hall, where they all had to stop and wait some time before their carriage could come up—and finally to the sidewalk, where he saw Prince Ernest carefully place Drusilla in her carriage, and tenderly lift her hand to his lips as he bade her good-night. Saw him then gaze upon the faded bouquet that he had taken from the beauty, who had probably forgotten to reclaim it—gaze upon it, press it to his lips, and place it, as some priceless treasure, in the breast of his coat.
That last act of folly filled up the measure of the prince’s offences. It maddened Alexander. Henceforth he was no more responsible for his actions than a lunatic.
Going up to Prince Ernest, he clapped him smartly upon the shoulder.
The prince whirled around with an involuntary expression of surprise and anger.
“You, sir, I want a word with you!” exclaimed Alexander, breathing hard between his set teeth.
“At your pleasure, sare, perhaps! But, first, who may you be?” replied his highness, with cool hauteur.