"On Thursday they arrive at Southampton."
"They will go straight to Windsor, of course?"
"Oh no, my child; it is not a visit of state. It is quite a secret, what you call incognito. The king is coming to make obedient his wicked daughter. Helas!"
With tragic suddenness the Princess dropped her voice and the laughter died in her eyes. But Mrs. Arbuthnot was too far deeply engrossed in her own wild and extravagant thoughts to pay heed to the change.
"But if the King does not go to Windsor, where else can he go?" said she. "An hotel doesn't seem right, somehow, although, of course, there are some rather nice ones in London."
"I think, my child," said the Princess, "it were best that my father came to us. They have anarchists in London. Besides, I insist that you see Schalk. He will make you laugh until you shed tears."
It was as much as ever Mrs. Arbuthnot could do to keep herself in hand.
"Oh, Sonia," she cried, "do you really think the King will come to us?"
"Mais oui, certainement, that is his intention. But it is a secret, a grand secret, you must not fail to remember. Le bon roi Edouard must not know he is in this country. His name will be Count Zhygny; and perhaps our good Odo here will be able to find him a little shooting. Hares, partridges, anything that goes on four legs will amuse him; and you must never forget, my good Odo, that he is the best player at Britch in Illyria. Now mind you don't play very high, or he will ruin you. And so will Schalk."
"I thank you, ma'am, for the information," said I, gravely.