“Impossible, dear princess; and I shouldn’t dream of letting you either.”
“Introduce me to your friend, Cornélie!” said a deep voice behind Cornélie.
She felt that voice like bronze inside her body. She turned round automatically. It was he. She seemed unable to escape him. And, under his glance, as though hypnotized, she appeared, very strangely, to recover her strength. It seemed as though he were willing her not to be ill. She murmured:
“Urania, may I introduce ... a fellow-countryman?... Baron Brox.... Princess di Forte-Braccio....”
Urania knew his name, knew who he was:
“Darling,” she whispered to Cornélie, “let me take you to your room. I’ll see to everything.”
“It’s no longer necessary,” she said. “I’m much better. I only want a glass of champagne. I am much better, Mrs. Uxeley.”
“Why did you run away from me?” asked Rudolph Brox, with his smile and his eyes in Cornélie’s eyes.
She smiled and said the first thing that came into her head.
“The dancing has begun,” said Mrs. Uxeley. “But who’s going to lead my cotillon presently?”