Ranata fixed her gaze resolutely upon them, but her ear was strained towards the drawing-room. Why did not the bridegroom come forth and bring the captain in his wake? But it was not until the march was over, and the partners were swinging about to the first slow wail of the dance, and holding every eye, that she became aware of the trailing of regal garments on the hard floor behind her. Her quick ear advised her that, for the moment at least, he was unaccompanied. She set her face in severity, for she had no mind to let the old Prince take his own way unreproved, and as he finally halted beside her she did not speak nor lift her eyes to his, although she darted a glance of feminine curiosity over his costume. It was regal enough; and in spite of his age he looked a superb and supple figure in his closely fitting armor of gold brocade sewn with jewels, covered to the waist with chains; and his legs in their long silken stockings were as shapely as youth. From his shoulders flowed a mantle of white velvet lined with ermine, and embroidered with the black raven holding the golden circlet in its beak. In spite of her intent to reprove, Ranata’s eye travelled upward to observe how well he wore the crown, the while her ear was alert for another footfall. But her ear forgot its cunning, and her eye the crown it was rising to criticise, the while it should ignore the bleared apologetic orbs of her father’s old friend. Her gaze was arrested and held by the piercing glance which tradition and the artist have given to Matthias Corvinus. And the rest of the presentment was complete, Ranata noted as her knees shook; even under the fair wig and beard the outlines were firm and fine, and the head was well poised and shaped. He looked far more the king than her father or any other sovereign in Europe, except perhaps the man whose memory she had expunged to-night. Had the dead risen? As the room swam round her she wondered if she were expected to drop on one knee. Then the eyes puckered themselves and smiled, and Ranata was the angriest woman in Hungary. “How dared you!” she exclaimed beneath her breath. “How dared you!” “Dared?” “Yes! Yes! Yes!” “It required no courage whatever, merely ingenuity--a considerable amount of that, however. Would you care to hear the story?” “I have no curiosity on the subject whatever. Where is Prince Nadasdy?” “At this moment? I have no idea. Yes, he is probably at the casino--if there is any one left to play with him. Otherwise he is doubtless lost to every variety of disappointment.” “And you--how did you inveigle that costume from him?” “Inveigle, madame? I paid a king’s ransom for this costume.” “Your loathsome American millions! I thought there were a few things they could not accomplish.” “There is nothing, madame. When they fail it is due to bungling only.” “You have no cause to be angry--to assume that tone with me!” “You have abused me like a pickpocket.”