“I know nothing as to that, but, as you say, it’s very possible. You’ll have gathered how the feelings of these two ladies towards one another runs through the whole business. And we’re not finished with them yet. Before Waldo sets his hand to that agreement, he must know that the arrangement which is to bring me to Cragsfoot will bring Lucinda there too.” “Yes, as its mistress; even in my lifetime, if she so pleases; after me, in any case.” He looked across to me, smiling. “And the moment so difficult—the more difficult because it’s otherwise so triumphant! The Heir-Apparent is born—a month ago—I wrote you about it. The dynasty is assured; Her Majesty is at her grandest and—I will add—her most gracious. I saw her about again for the first time the day before yesterday, and she said to me, ‘Now I’m really content, Sir Paget!’—implying, as it seemed to me, that the subject world ought to be content also. All the Court was there—the Heir itself, our dear old Prince Consort, the Grand Vizier—forgive me mixing East and West, but that seems to be the sort of position which she assigns to young Godfrey Frost; an exalted but precarious position, with a throne on one hand, and a bowstring on the other! Oh, yes, and there was a Lady-in-Waiting into the bargain, a pretty girl called Eunice Something-or-other.” “Oh, yes, she was at Villa San Carlo—Eunice Unthank,” said I, smiling. Nina—pertinacious as a limpet! “And now we’re to come breaking in on this benevolent despotism! Our schemes border on conspiracy, don’t they?” He grew graver, though he still smiled whimsically. “A reconciliation possible?” he suggested doubtfully. I laughed. “There’s a crowning task for your diplomacy, Sir Paget!” “If I could change the hearts of women, I should be a wizard, not a diplomatist. Their feuds have a grand implacability beside which the quarrels of nations are trivial and transient affairs. In this matter, I’m a broken reed—don’t lean upon me, Julius! And could you answer for your side—for your fair belligerent?” “Lucinda makes war by laughing,” said I, laughing myself. “But—well, I think she would go on laughing, you know.” “Just what my Lady Dundrannan always hates, and occasionally suspects—even in me!” “I wish to blazes that Waldo would have one of his old rages, and tell her it’s not her business!”