Suddenly there was a general murmur of excitation and a general movement of personages, and from where she had been placed she saw the mistress of the house going forward to greet a young man who had entered as various voices had exclaimed:
'Prince Paul is come!'
They all surrounded this new-comer with murmurs of ardent congratulation. He was the Rubenstein of the great world, a rare and most sympathetic genius, and, ce qui ne gâte rien, he was the son of a grand duke, though he held it as a much higher title that he had been also the pupil of Liszt and the beloved of Wagner. He was one of the innumerable cousins which Nadine could claim here, there, and everywhere in the pages of the Almanach de Gotha, and he was a person whose visits were always agreeable to her.
This visit was unexpected, and was, therefore, all the more welcome. In the reception of Paul of Lemberg she altogether forgot her poor little bit of seaweed off Bonaventure, and everyone did the same.
Othmar, coming through his rooms to welcome his new and unlooked-for visitor, who was a great favourite with himself, caught sight of the figure so unlike all others there, which was seated forlorn and alone on a low couch, with a group of palms and some draperies of Ottoman silks behind her.
'So soon abandoned!' he thought with compassion. 'Poor child; she looks sadly astray. She is very handsome—as handsome as Loswa's sketch,' he thought also, with a few swift glances at her.
When he too had greeted Prince Paul he turned to his wife and said in an undertone:
'Have you forgotten another guest whom you have left there all alone?'
She looked fatigued and annoyed at the suggestion.