“He is going to Thracia, madame, and her Majesty is to join him there.”
“To Thracia—from the south of Pannonia? It will be a long journey.”
Maimie was conscious of something in the Princess’s tone which seemed like repressed excitement. She answered promptly, “He intends to go through Illyria, madame. There is only a few miles of country between the Pannonian and Mœsian railways, and he will save time by driving from one to the other instead of taking the long round.”
“To drive across Illyria—— Ah!” said the Princess slowly. Again there was that hint of eagerness in her manner, and Maimie caught it. The Princess looked up, and saw the responsive sparkle in her eye. Instantly her own face changed. “Illyria is a country of very beautiful scenery. I have travelled there a good deal,” she said, with a dead calmness in her tone, and Maimie was left to wonder what memory, or what project, had provoked that sudden excitement. For some reason she suspected that it did not bode well for Count Mortimer, and she was glad of it, though it was not evident to her what the Princess could do to annoy him.
A few days later, the Bluebird left the Western Mediterranean for the port at which Don Ramon of Arragon was to welcome his niece. The Queen and Cyril were on board, so was Princess Amalie, and so also was Mr Hicks, who was understood to occupy the position of the late Prince Joseph’s man of business. A high honour was awaiting Félicia, for the Emperor of Pannonia happened to be visiting the port; and when Don Ramon’s arrival was delayed, through some accident or mistake which was hinted not to be altogether accidental, he took upon himself the duty of welcoming her and Princess Amalie. Queen Ernestine went northwards to Molzau, Cyril started on his journey to Thracia, and Félicia, with her train of followers, was delivered into the hands of her uncle. He proved to be a stern-faced elderly man, early soured by the loss of all his prospects, and interested in humanity only from the point of view of a student of brain disease. His wife was so completely his shadow that she was known as “la Ramona” at the Pannonian Court; but she had individuality enough to disapprove very heartily of heretics, Americans, and people who were not hoffähig generally, and to regard Félicia as an example of all three. The daughters were uninteresting girls, keenly on the look-out for something shocking in everything their new cousin said or did, and Félicia expressed privately to Maimie her opinion that even if her whole fortune had been divided among them they would not have married. But these unpleasing family characteristics were merely spots in the sun. Félicia’s ambition was on the eve of attainment. She was recognised as a daughter of Arragon, and as the Princess Doña Feliciana Josefa was on her way to Molzau to receive a crown—and incidentally, to marry a king.
CHAPTER XVII.
MISSING.
“Well, Phil, what do you think of your sister-in-law? Isn’t she an amusing child?”
“She is amusing, but she’s not a child—or at any rate, she’s a woman as well.”
“No, Phil, I swear to you I feel like a showman, or old Barlow in ‘Sandford and Merton,’ or a benevolent uncle taking a small kid to the Zoo—like anything but a husband. Now, do we look like a married couple?”
“Not a bit. How funny! It was only this morning that it struck me you looked like a kind elder brother taking his little sister out on a half-holiday. Helene was hanging on your arm and looking up into your face, and chattering hard the whole time.”