He admired her calmness. He considered her behaviour eccentric; but she carried out her eccentricity with a self-assurance which once more showed her in a new light. Would he never understand her, would he never grasp anything or know anything for certain of that changeful and intangible vagueness of hers? He could never have spoken those few words to that porter in just that tone! Where had she got that tact from, that dignified, serious attitude towards that imposing janitor, with his long cane and his cocked hat? She did it all as easily as she ordered their simple dinner, with a pleasant familiarity, of the waiter at their little restaurant.
The porter returned:
"Miss Hope and his excellency beg that you will come upstairs."
She looked at Duco with a triumphant smile, amused at his confusion:
"Will you come, too?"
"Why, no," he stammered. "I can wait for you here."
She followed the footman up the stairs. The wide corridor was hung with family-portraits. The drawing-room-door was open and the prince came out to meet her.
"Please forgive me, prince," she said, calmly, putting out her hand.
His eyes were small and pinched and gleamed like carbuncles; he was white with rage; but he controlled himself and pressed his lips to the hand which she gave him.
"Forgive me," she went on. "I want to speak to Miss Hope on an urgent matter."