“How do I know!” answered the duke, vexed at being troubled while thinking of so many things. “Tell them—oh, tell them I am having a political interview—a tête-à-tête with the representative of a great power!”
CHAPTER II
A PARISIAN DÉBUT
The duke, imposing and superb, was present; and Caracal, with his monocle in his eye, was beside him. It was the first night of Helia. If it had been a common first night at the Théâtre Français, the duke would have thought himself dishonored by appearing before the second act. But he wished to offer a rose to Helia, and so he, a gentleman, had committed and made Caracal commit an unheard-of thing—they had dined between seven and eight so as to arrive on time.
“You are interested in behind the scenes? Your presence greatly honors us, monseigneur,” said the director of the Cirque as he passed by them.
Was he interested? He was more than that—he was enthralled.
First of all, Caracal suggested it was very chic to have the air of paying court to Helia, who to-morrow would be celebrated as a star. This would give an irresistible Don Juan mark to his ducal title.
“That will help me with Miss Rowrer,” thought the duke, who was pupil and plaything of the clever Caracal. There was a single shadow in his picture—Phil was not there!
Phil was to accompany Miss Rowrer to the American Club Exhibition; but this touched the duke—oh, so very slightly. Miss Rowrer had a great esteem for Phil, but pshaw! a poor devil of an artist was no rival for him, a duke with his duchy, descended from fairies and queens and saints! Against all this what could avail her innocent flirtation with Phil?
The public had not yet come and the hall was empty. Here and there the electric globes were lighting up; but the duke and Caracal beheld a sight which helped them to pass the time. The sensational equestrienne, the Marquesa de Guerrera, was coming down the steps, enameled and rouged and resplendent with diamonds. Monseigneur gallantly held her stirrup as she painfully climbed upon her horse. She dashed out on the track in front of the empty benches for a short rehearsal. She asked for the orchestra and the lights, to accustom her horse to the noise and glitter. She was afraid he would take fright. She trembled at his slightest shying.
“Take away that white paper—that program on the bench; take it away! And do you applaud!” the Marquesa called to the stable-boys who approached the ring.