“It would kill poor Ysobel. She’s _so_ proud and ambitious! And that’s why she has an eye for the Prince--he’s of a frightfully old family, you know. One of his ancestors tried to poison Cesare Borgia and did succeed in getting himself poisoned or smothered or something thrilling. And they were an old, old family then. Oh, Ysobel is flying high. If her father would give her mother and her a free hand, I think she’d land a prince of some royal family.” [Illustration: _Cosimo, Prince di Rontivogli_] Behind his mask Frothingham was hastily reforming his line of battle. The Ballantyne fortune was apparently inaccessible to an attack from a mere Earl; but he could keep it under surveillance while employing his main force against the Pope citadel, which seemed to be inviting attack. He did not fancy Miss Pope--she was too patently conscious of her cleverness and it was of a kind that did not attract him, was not what he regarded as feminine; nor was she physically up to his standard for his Countess-to-be. But--she had the essential; and he had been in America nearly five months and had had two, practically three, failures. For the rest of his two weeks at the Ballantynes’ he spent as much time as he courteously could with Miss Pope. And when he joined Joe Wallingford at the New Willard, sharing his suite--and paying less than a third of the expenses--he was with her a large part of each day, driving with her, riding with her, lunching where she lunched, dining where she dined, dancing with her, walking with her, sending her flowers. In Boston and New York he had been somewhat hindered by the chaperon system, careless though it was. Here chaperoning was the flimsiest of farces, and he and Elsie were together almost as freely as if she were a man. In his fourth week in Washington he called one afternoon to keep an engagement to walk with her at half-past four. She had not returned from a girl’s luncheon to which she had gone. At ten minutes past five she came, full of apology for her delay--“I really couldn’t leave. The lunch was over before three o’clock, but the Secretary of State’s daughter was enjoying herself and, though we were all furious with her, as we had other engagements, she wouldn’t leave; and, of course, none of us could leave until she left. When she did finally take herself away the Secretary of the Treasury’s daughter had given up her engagement and had settled herself for the rest of the afternoon. She didn’t leave until ten minutes ago. So there we were, penned in and forced to stay.” “Precedence again?” said Frothingham. “Precedence. It’s outrageous that those two girls should show so little consideration.”