Upon him on that grey, wintry afternoon as he drove to the station to catch the express back to Paris there fell a feeling that a crisis—a dangerous and dramatic crisis—was imminent.
Ah! had he but known the truth—had he had but sight of what the Princess had written in that fatal letter he had conveyed to her lover—how differently would he have acted!
But, alas! he travelled back to the Eternal City bearing the bitter reply of the Princess’s secret lover—a reply by which her own young life was held in the balance, which crushed her soul, which held her in breathless terror, and, alas! caused her to long for the dark oblivion of death.
Chapter Nineteen.
At the Court Ball.
The second Court ball—one of the most brilliant functions of the Roman season—was at its height when, having arrived direct from Paris, very dirty and weary, Hubert hastened to his rooms, washed, changed into uniform, and drove at once to the Palace.
He was all anxiety to hear what had occurred during his absence.
Pucci had left a note on the previous day saying that he hoped to call and see him immediately upon his return. Apparently he had something to communicate.