I _will_ say this boy played well. Magnetically... The whole room was silent and motionless. One looked up through a mist, as it were, and saw rows of rapt faces, a regiment of men by the walls, a mere black and white cloud by the door. At first I did not notice... I mean, one cannot be expected to identify eighty or a hundred people all at once; the princess was obviously my first concern, and, when this young fellow ceased playing and I stood up, _naturally_ I imagined that they would all come forward. So they did ... some of them. I am not good at recognizing people, so I made allowances for myself; but, even so, a _great_ many of the faces were unfamiliar. Nothing in that, you may say; a little music and some light refreshments--sandwiches and cake, you know, with perhaps claret-cup and coffee--afford a wonderful opportunity for making a little return to people whom one truly honestly doesn't want to have _dining_; I'm sure you understand! There is nothing wrong with them or I would not invite them to have the honour of meeting the princess; but, as Will would say, they just don't pull their weight in the boat... I recognized one or two ... and then, really, I did not know what to make of it. After anything I may have said to the princess about the unpleasantly go-as-you-please, enjoy-yourself-and-don't-ask-questions character of modern London, you may be sure that I had not encouraged anybody to collect the first half-dozen waifs and strays from the street and bring them in. Every one had been _told_ that the princess would be there, so that they might equip themselves accordingly; yet, when I looked round the room, I did not know a tenth of the people! It was like a bad dream! You know my drawing-room in Mount Street: windows on the south side, and between them a sofa on which I was sitting with the princess; to the left, at the far end, the piano; to the right, the door. At one moment--a perfect picture! Dear old Lord Fenchurch with his St. George, Brackenbury with the Bath, my boy with his war medals--almost every one with a little _something_ to enhance what will always be the most _dignified_ dress in the world. Repose... Distinction. And then, at the door, an invading army! Men I had never seen before, some in uniform, some in those detestable little jackets and limp, pleated shirts; flushed, dishevelled... And all of them unknown to me as the man in the moon! The princess, perhaps you know, abominates the smell of tobacco; need I say that a positive _cloud_ of smoke was bursting in from the stair-case? ...