The dismay in the eyes of the Ambassador was rather tragic. His gaze was travelling constantly to meet that of his two companions, stolid men who yet were at a loss to conceal their uneasiness. On the other hand, the air of the Princess was charmingly cool and dégagé.
"Baron," said she, "do you know my husband?"
Her smile, as she spoke, acquired a malice that made one think of a sword.
"Madam, I have not the privilege," said the Ambassador coldly.
Somehow the manner of the reply gave one an enlarged idea of his Excellency's calibre. If in such a situation it is permissible for a humble spectator to speak of himself, I felt my throat tighten and my heart begin to beat.
"Well, Baron," said the Princess, "it is a privilege that I am sure you covet. His Excellency the Herr Baron von Arlenberg, my dear father's representative in England, Mr. Nevil Fitzwaren, squire of Broadfields, in the County of Middleshire."
The Ambassador bowed gravely and then held out his hand.
Fitz returned the bow of Ferdinand the Twelfth's representative slightly and curtly, but ignored his hand altogether.