Now, at one time the same nobleman had been in the habit of contracting Pinsuti’s name, when addressing him, into “Pince”; in the course of time this became improved into “Prince”; and for years he was never addressed except in this way; so that when he entered the hall of the hotel, His Excellency lifted up his hands and cried,—
“Why, Prince, who on earth would have fancied meeting you here of all places in the world?”
Pinsuti explained that he had merely crossed the Channel for a day or two, and that he was staying at the hotel.
“Come along then, and we’ll have lunch together,” said the Lord Lieutenant; and Pinsuti forthwith joined the Viceregal party.
But when luncheon was over, and the Viceroy was strolling through the grounds for a smoke by the side of the musician, the landlord approached His Excellency’s son, saying,—
“I beg your lordship’s pardon, but may I ask who the Prince is that lunched with you and His Excellency?”
“What Prince?” said Lord Ernest, somewhat puzzled.
“Yes, my lord; I heard His Excellency address him as Prince more than once,” said the landlord.
Then Lord Ernest, perceiving the ground for a capital joke, said,—
“Oh, the Prince—yes, to be sure; I fancied you knew him. Prince! yes, that’s the Prince of Bohemia.”