The Inche Maida turned round.
“I could not help being a listener, Mr Chumbley,” she said, quietly; “and surely you did not suppose that you could both talk like that unheard. Now let me speak before I go.”
Chumbley bowed, and Hilton folded his arms, leaning against the wall, while his friend slowly rose, and once more offered the Princess a seat.
“No!” she cried, angrily. “I can only sit with my friends, and you persist in treating me as an enemy. As Captain Hilton’s friend, I ask pardon for the roughness of my people. Can I do more?”
“Well, yes,” said Chumbley; “after we have granted your pardon, you can set us free!”
“That I shall not do!” she cried, with her eyes flashing.
“Not now, Princess,” said Chumbley, speaking calmly, seriously and well; “but after a little reflection. You do not realise the power of England, madam. You do not know what our Government will always do to maintain the honour and prestige of our nation.”
“No,” she said, scornfully, “I do not.”
“Let me tell you then,” said Chumbley, with a return of his dry, sarcastic manner; “I am of no consequence whatever as compared to our handsome young captain there.”
“I think you a ten times better man, and one hundred times as much a gentleman,” cried the Princess, hotly; and her eyes flashed indignation at them both.