"Not agreeable! I don't know. I am—I—I—oh, I don't know, it seems almost uncanny to me."
"Not at all, my dear Miss Wellington. Surely not uncanny. Let us ascribe it to the genius of Sargent; to the inspiration of a face on canvas."
"But you really haven't known me at all. You—"
He interrupted.
"Know you! Ah, don't I! I know you above these trivial things. The world of affairs will feel the impress of your personality, of your wit, your intellect—of your beauty. Then vale the idle, flashing days of pleasure. Iron will enter into your life. But you will rejoice. For who is there that finds power not joyous? Ambassadors will confide in you. Prime ministers will forget the interests of their offices." He paused. "Who knows when or how soon? But it shall be, surely, inevitably.… I wonder," he was speaking very slowly now, "if you will recognize your opportunity."
"Who knows," she said softly. The Prince remained silent, looking at her. She seemed to feel the necessity of further words but was wholly without inspiration. She glanced down the road and saw a boy in blue toiling along on a bicycle. Her exclamation was out of all proportion to the event.
"A messenger boy! He brings word from father—we expect him to-morrow, you know."
"He brings no word from your father," replied the Prince mysteriously. "His errand concerns me. You shall see." They moved to the gate and the boy alighting, glanced at the two with his alert Irish eyes.
"Say, does a fellow named Koltsoff live here?"
"I am he; give me the package, boy. It is prepaid—very well; here is something for you," tossing the urchin a quarter.