Sully’s lilting melody began.
The Prince danced as he rode, with consummate excellence, but, unlike his horsemanship, his dancing was without animation. It seemed to his partner that he was not listening to the music in the least nor thinking of her at all.
Once or twice he looked distinctly away from her, in a mournful, absent manner down the room; as if he looked through the dancers and saw something else beyond. When their hands touched she felt his cool fingers resting on hers as lightly as they might have rested on his gentleman’s shoulder.
She was silent until the elaborate figures had come to an end; then she laughed.
“Your Highness does not like dancing.”
He turned his great eyes on her.
“I have been clumsy, Madame?”
“No—you have it in your head—perfectly—Prince, not, I think, in the least in your heart.”
“That is probably true,” he replied gravely.
“It is a pity, Prince—for the ladies.” She suddenly laid her hand on his sleeve. “Whom will Your Highness dance with now?”