“I can see it all!” she exclaimed. “Oh, Sonia, were you ever really as happy as that? What were you looking at, with your head turned in that eager way?” “Yes, I was a Happy Princess once, my dear. But you are a wonderful creature, Martha! No one but you ever thought to ask that question, so I have been saved the embarrassment of explaining. Since you have asked me, I will tell you that I was looking at my husband. While the photographer was posing me in various ways, my husband was waiting for me. He was supposed to be out [Illustration: “‘OH, SONIA, WERE YOU EVER REALLY AS HAPPY AS THAT?’”] of sight, but I heard a newspaper rustle, and looked quickly around, and caught a glimpse of him, between two screens, seated quietly and unconsciously reading the paper. One of those great rushes of passionate tenderness which the sight of the man she loves can sometimes bring to a woman’s heart came over me. At that moment the photographer got the instantaneous impression. I don’t know why I should tell you all this, except that you saw it all there. To other people there never seemed any special significance in the picture.” She reached out her hand to take back the photographs, but Martha handed her only the first. “Oh, Sonia, _let_ me keep this!” she begged. “It is such delight to me to look at it!” “No, dear; I couldn’t. No one but myself should ever see that picture. I ought not perhaps to have shown it to you. It was just an impulse. Promise never to speak of either of these pictures--not even to me. You never will?” “Never,” said Martha, sadly, as she gave the picture up. Her friend took it, and, without glancing at it, locked it away in a drawer. When she came back her whole manner had changed. She began at once to talk about her work at the atelier, and told Martha that Étienne wished her to enter a picture for the Salon. The wedding preparations had kept Martha at home a good deal lately, and the princess had some interesting bits of news to give her. She was very graphic in her account of some of Étienne’s last criticisms, and got into high spirits, in which Martha, somehow, could not entirely take part. The girl went away at last rather heavy-hearted. This conversation had deprived her of her last hope of bringing the princess and her brother together. She had an engagement with Harold for the afternoon, so she could not go to the atelier; but she promised to meet the princess there in good time next morning. That afternoon she indulged herself in giving her brother a brief account of her romantic friendship. She did not, however, mention the name by which the princess was known to her, or any but the external facts in the case.