"No, my dear Prince," was my friend's reply. "You are, I think, mistaken. That is the old Countess Gemsenberg, and the girl is her daughter Elise. She's engaged to that fellow--an awful ass--young Hausner, the son of the big banker in Vienna, who died last year, leaving him thirty million kroners." "Do you really know this?" I asked, looking the Parson straight in the face. "Know it? Why, everybody in this Hotel knows of their engagement. I've been here five weeks, and they were here before I arrived. They're staying the season, and have the best suite of rooms in the place. The old Countess is, no doubt, very wealthy, and lives in Munich." Neither of the women had noticed me, and I remained silent. What my friend had told me was certainly extraordinary. Why, I wondered had Madame represented herself as a woman of the middle-class, resident in a dull West End terrace? Why had Elise not admitted to me the truth? She had seemed so charmingly frank. With an intention to remain unseen and observant I purposely avoided the pair that evening. Next morning I saw Elise and young Hausner strolling together on the Strandweg, that broad path which forms the principal promenade, and runs along the rocky coast from Volosca to Icici. She was smartly dressed in cream serge, girdled narrow but distinctive, and wore a large black hat which suited her admirably, while he was in an easy suit of dark blue, a panama, and white shoes. They were talking very earnestly as they walked slowly on in the bright autumn sunshine with the blue Adriatic before them. He seemed to be telling her something very seriously, and she was listening without uttering a word--or, at least, she scarcely spoke while they were within my sight. On returning to the hotel I stumbled upon Madame Demidoff, who, seated in the hall, was chatting with a tall, bald-headed, middle-aged man in dark brown tweed, who had every appearance of an Englishman. She had just given him a letter to read, and he was laughing heartily over it. Fortunately, however, she sat with her back to the door and, therefore, did not observe me. So I was enabled to make my exit without detection. Half an hour later I pointed out the Englishman to the Parson, asking who he was. "I don't know," was his reply. "I've never seen him before; a fresh arrival, I suppose." That day I lunched and dined in my private sitting-room, in order to avoid the pair, and continue my observations. That night I caught sight of Elise, whose exquisite gown of pale pink chiffon was creating a sensation among the well-dressed women, for the news of her engagement to the young millionaire banker made her the most-talked-of and admired girl in the great crowded hotel.