"By all means!" she returned. "The more Bab sees of him the sooner she'll be bored by him. He may dine with us tonight, if he chooses, and accompany us to Madame van der Capellan's party afterwards."
The civil note was accordingly sent round by hand to the British Headquarters, where it found Colonel Audley in the company of the Prince of Orange and Lord Fitzroy Somerset.
The Colonel took the note, and tore it open with an eagerness which did not escape the Prince. That young gentleman, observing the elegance of the hot-pressed paper and the unmistakably feminine character of the handwriting, winked at Lord Fitzroy, and said: "Aha! The affair progresses!"
The Colonel ignored this sally, and moved across to a desk and sat down at it to write an acceptance of the invitation. The Prince strolled after him, and perched on the opposite side of the desk, swinging his thin legs. "It is certainly an assignation," he said.
"It is. An invitation to dinner," replied the Colonel, rejecting one quill and choosing another.
"And it was I who set your feet on the road to ruin! Fitzroy, Charles is in love!"
Lord Fitzroy's small, firm mouth remained grave, but a smile twinkled in his eyes. "I thought he seemed a little elated. Who is she?"
"The Widow!" answered the Prince. "What widow?"
The Prince flung up his hands. "He asks me what widow! Mon Dieu, Fitzroy, don't you know there is only one? The Incomparable, the Dashing, the Fatal Barbara!"
"I am not a penny the wiser," said Lord Fitzroy, his quiet, slightly drawling voice in as great a contrast to the Prince's vivacity as were his fair locks and square, handsome countenance to the Prince's dark hair and erratic features. "You forget how long it is since I was in England. Charles, that's my pen, and it suits me very well without your mending it. What's more, it's my desk, and I've work to do."