Nadia sank down on the chair the waiter brought her; but still she said nothing, and the children, wondering exceedingly, came and stood beside her.
“Mother, is it grandpa?” asked Philippa in a whisper. She was mindful of her manners, if her mother had forgotten them.
“Yes; it is your grandfather,” replied Lady Caerleon with a strange laugh. “Go and speak to him.” The children obeyed.
“How do you do, grandpa?” asked Usk, who was the first to reach the tall stooping form by the table. “I hope you are quite well?” But he felt himself eclipsed at once when Philippa said pointedly in her turn, “How do you do, grandpa? I’m so glad you’re better.”
“But it is adorable!” cried one of the gentlemen, as Philippa stood on tiptoe to bestow a kiss on her grandfather. “Come and give me a keess also, leetle English Meess.”
“I don’t know who you mean,” said Philippa, disliking the speaker instinctively, but mindful of the duties of politeness. “My name is Lady Philippa Mortimer.”
“Mortimer!” said another. “No relation of our dear Count, surely?”
“Ah, would you like to know?” said the O’Malachy, trying to remove Philippa’s fur cap, but she withdrew herself from his hands.
“I can take off my hat myself, grandpa,” she said reprovingly, and did so. A cry of recognition broke from the company.
“Carlino’s daughter! There cannot be a doubt.”