The Prince of the Captivity: The Epilogue to a RomanceGrier, Sydney C.
General
The Prince of the Captivity: The Epilogue to a Romance
Grier, Sydney C.
Kings and rulers -- Fiction; Political fiction
Matters were no better when Mrs van Zyl’s guests arrived, and he had
no longer to keep up the dreary pretence which Félicia insisted on
treating as solid reality. He did his duty in helping to hand round
tea and cake, finding seats for elderly ladies, and making up sets for
croquet, but the company was not to his taste, although it was evident
that Félicia found it very much to hers. Once more he noticed the
change in her. At Llandiarmid she had been merely the shadow of her
real self, perversely critical or genuinely languid, but now she had
recovered the health and good spirits which had been so noticeable
before her father’s death. The well preserved, tightly buttoned,
barons and counts who owed allegiance to the other American women
present crowded round her, and competed for her smiles with rival
sallies of wit, and the weary cosmopolitans forgot to talk of such an
one’s score and some one else’s bad luck. She held her court among
them, listening to their deftly turned compliments with an
indifference which was almost contemptuous, until the splendid eyes
would all at once be lifted lazily, and a comment be
uttered--sometimes only a single word--which set all her hearers
laughing. She could hold her own with ease even when her indifference
piqued them all to unite against her. Still reclining with half-veiled
eyes in her hammock, she would annihilate half her assailants at once
with a single sally, and then dispose of the rest by a few crisp
sentences in succession. It was perfect, Usk saw. No wonder these
fellows were attracted and amused, and yet--and yet--what was to be
the outcome of it all? Was it possible for Félicia--even if she ever
intended to marry him--to be happy as his wife? Morbidly awake now to
her methods and aims, he found no pleasure in the fact that King
Michael had not put in an appearance all day, but rather a reason for
her restoration of himself to favour. In spite of his protestations to
his uncle, he was occupying now the most degraded of all positions,
that of a stalking-horse employed to pique the other man into renewing
his attentions.
CHAPTER XII.
MURDERED FAITH.
“We really ought to buy something at the refreshment-stall,” said
the Grand-Duchess; “but what is one to do with cakes in a hotel?”
“We might have tea here instead,” said Queen Ernestine. “Usk, perhaps
you can find us a table in a quiet corner?”
A bazaar was being held on behalf of some object connected with the
English church, and the Queen, escorted by Usk, had met the
Grand-Duchess of Schwarzwald-Molzau and her daughter making the round
of the stalls. One of the lady members of the committee, who was
hovering at the Queen’s heels with the view of directing her attention
to the most desirable, and expensive, articles on each stall, heard
the remark about tea, and appeared suddenly in front of the party, her
whole aspect eloquent of a desire to be addressed.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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