Running through all his thoughts and visions was his last talk with his uncle. That talk had risen from this very business of his coming to Russia. While in Paris the preceding summer Alice and her mother had met Prince Berloff, then in France on a secret diplomatic mission. He was one of Russia’s greatest titles, Alice one of America’s greatest fortunes, so the engagement that followed was possibly pre-ordained. Alice’s mother had written her husband that she desired to see the country where her daughter was to be so exalted a figure, and had declared that they would be perfectly safe, even though smouldering revolutions did threaten to flame forth, under the protection of so great a nobleman as Prince Berloff. But old John Howard would not permit their visit without a nearer escort; and since he himself could not leave the great traction deal which then engrossed him, he had shunted his duties upon his convenient nephew. Drexel had rebelled. He protested against leaving the traction deal and the other vast interests his uncle was drawing him into. And on another ground he protested with even greater vehemence. He had thought himself in love with his pretty cousin, and he now urged to his uncle the ironic incongruity of the rejected suitor being compelled to escort his inamorata about the land, and among the honours, of his successful rival. His uncle had put a hand upon his arm. “See here, Henry,” he said with brusque affection, “you don’t really care for Alice, and never did care. You just thought you did.” “We’ll pass that. But even if I cared, you would have turned me down just the same.” His tone was bitter, for the thing still rankled. “Of course I realize that your sister’s son is a poor man.” “No poorer than my son would be, if I had one, if I had died twenty-five years ago like your father. In this marriage business, it wasn’t that you haven’t any money. It was because your aunt--well, you know as well as I do how keen she was about a title. But forget all that, my lad. I like you just as if you were my own boy. And I’m proud of you. Ten years from now, you’ll be the biggest young business man in America!” Drexel gave a dry laugh. “I don’t look much like that picture at present. What have I got? Only the little my mother left me!” And then his uncle had said the great words. “Eh, but, boy, you’re only twenty-six; and so far you’ve just been in training! In training to take my place when I step out. Your training is over; when you come back from Russia, your real career begins--and a big one, too! Oh, your fifty thousand is nothing”--he brushed it aside with a contemptuous hand--“but you know you’re coming in for a good part of what I have and you’re going to manage the whole pile. One of these princes may be all right for a son-in-law, but he don’t get control of my business! The things I’ve spent my life in building up, I’m not going to have sold, or ruined by mismanagement. No, sir!”