‘You wish to talk to me, Prince,’ said Racksole to Aribert, when they were seated together in the former’s room. ‘I wish to tell you,’ replied Aribert, ‘that it is my intention to renounce all my rights and titles as a Royal Prince of Posen, and to be known in future as Count Hartz--a rank to which I am entitled through my mother. Also that I have a private income of ten thousand pounds a year, and a château and a town house in Posen. I tell you this because I am here to ask the hand of your daughter in marriage. I love her, and I am vain enough to believe that she loves me. I have already asked her to be my wife, and she has consented. We await your approval.’ ‘You honour us, Prince,’ said Racksole with a slight smile, ‘and in more ways than one. May I ask your reason for renouncing your princely titles?’ ‘Simply because the idea of a morganatic marriage would be as repugnant to me as it would be to yourself and to Nella.’ ‘That is good.’ The Prince laughed. ‘I suppose it has occurred to you that ten thousand pounds per annum, for a man in your position, is a somewhat small income. Nella is frightfully extravagant. I have known her to spend sixty thousand dollars in a single year, and have nothing to show for it at the end. Why! she would ruin you in twelve months.’ ‘Nella must reform her ways,’ Aribert said. ‘If she is content to do so,’ Racksole went on, ‘well and good! I consent.’ ‘In her name and my own, I thank you,’ said Aribert gravely. ‘And,’ the millionaire continued, ‘so that she may not have to reform too fiercely, I shall settle on her absolutely, with reversion to your children, if you have any, a lump sum of fifty million dollars, that is to say, ten million pounds, in sound, selected railway stock. I reckon that is about half my fortune. Nella and I have always shared equally.’ Aribert made no reply. The two men shook hands in silence, and then it happened that Nella entered the room. That night, after dinner, Racksole and his friend Felix Babylon were walking together on the terrace of the Grand Babylon Hôtel. Felix had begun the conversation. ‘I suppose, Racksole,’ he had said, ‘you aren’t getting tired of the Grand Babylon?’ ‘Why do you ask?’ ‘Because I am getting tired of doing without it. A thousand times since I sold it to you I have wished I could undo the bargain. I can’t bear idleness. Will you sell?’ ‘I might,’ said Racksole, ‘I might be induced to sell.’ ‘What will you take, my friend?’ asked Felix ‘What I gave,’ was the quick answer. ‘Eh!’ Felix exclaimed. ‘I sell you my hotel with Jules, with Rocco, with Miss Spencer. You go and lose all those three inestimable servants, and then offer me the hotel without them at the same price! It is monstrous.’ The little man laughed heartily at his own wit. ‘Nevertheless,’ he added, ‘we will not quarrel about the price. I accept your terms.’