Doane translated discreetly. A dance was just ending, and curious eyes were bent on the group. The mandarins stood behind the viceroy, all gracefully at ease in their rich rubes.
His excellency, without relaxing that smile, replied in musical intonation.
“What is it?” asked Rocky Kane, under his breath, all quivering excitement; “what does he say?”
“That he accepts your apology, with appreciation of your manliness.”
Young Kane's nervous frown relaxed at this. He was pleased.
“Will you,” he was saying now, “will you ask if I may dance with the princess?”
Doane complied. He felt now a strain of fineness in this ungoverned boy that was oddly moving to his own emotion-clouded brain.... Hoi Fei was approaching, the Australian at her side.
“He suggests”—Doane found himself translating—“that you ask her. He does not know what engagements she may have made.”
The boy bit his lip. And then the princess was greeting the mate. “It's nice to see you, Mr. Doane,” she was saying. “I wondered if you weren't coming to the party.”
It seemed to Doane that he could feel young Kane's devouring eyes fastened on her. The moment had come in which he must act. The Australian, sensing a situation, thanked the princess and slipped away. Quietly, Doane said: “Miss Hui Fei, this is Mr. Kane, who has asked permission to meet you.”