Nello Corsini, with his keen Latin mind, grasped the situation. Princess Zouroff had set the fashion. There were many more fashionable concerts at which he would be invited to play, at remunerative fees. But he also remembered that both Papa Péron and Degraux had pointed out to him the uncertain tenure of public favour. Unobtrusively, he made his way out, but not before Princess Zouroff had thanked him warmly for the pleasure he had given them, and introduced him to a few notable persons, some of them hostesses as popular as herself, who had spoken gracious words. And while he was talking to one of these exalted ladies, there had floated to him a vision of youthful beauty, the lovely young Princess Nada, attired in an exquisite dress of white satin, a single diamond star in her dark-brown hair, round her slim neck a row of pearls. These were her only ornaments. She reached out her slender hand. "Thank you so much, Signor. That exquisite little romance brought the tears to my eyes. We shall meet many times again, I trust, and I shall often ask you, as a special request, to play that to me." "Enchanted, Mademoiselle," answered Corsini, bowing low, and blushing a little. He was rather overwhelmed with these compliments from great ladies. The person to whom he was talking when Nada intervened was a popular Countess, the châtelaine of an historic house in Piccadilly. She had spoken of a concert in a few days' time which she had invited the young violinist to attend. "A great artist and a very handsome young man also," murmured the great lady to Nada, as soon as Nello was out of earshot. "He will very soon be the rage. Bauquel will want to commit suicide." The Prince, who was talking to the Prime Minister, and always saw everything that was going on, had observed the brief conversation between his sister and the violinist. A scowl settled on his handsome face. As soon as he was disengaged, he overtook the young Princess as she was on her way to speak to some guests. "Indulging in a little bout of sentiment again with this young fiddler, Nada?" he inquired in sneering tones. "Telling him how delighted you were with his playing, eh? What need is there to thank these hired artists? They are well paid, generally overpaid, for what they do." Usually the Princess endured the insults and coarse remarks of her truculent brother with disdainful indifference. To-night she was a little unstrung. Like her mother, she was a passionate lover of music--what the French describe as _un amateur_. The lovely voices of the two _prime donne_, the exquisite strains of the violin, had raised her to an exalted mood, in which she only wanted to think of things pure and beautiful. The Prince's coarse words and sneering accents jarred upon her sensibilities, and aroused in her a spirit of antagonism. She darted at him an angry and contemptuous glance.