"I am glad to see you, Mr. Ware," she said in soft, languid tones, yet with a kind of rough burr; "my daughter has often talked of you." Her English was very good, and there was little trace of a foreign accent. Yet the occasional lisp and the frequent roughness added a piquancy to her tones. Even at her age--and she was considerably over fifty--she was undeniably a fascinating woman: in her youth she must have been a goddess both for looks and charm. Olga was regal and charming, but her mother excelled her. Giles found himself becoming quite enchanted with this Cleopatra of the West. "You have been long in England, Princess?" he asked. "But a week. I came to see Olga. She would have me come, although I dislike travelling. But I am fond of Olga." "It is more than my father is," said Olga, with a shrug; "he would not come. I suppose he thinks that I have disgraced him." "My dear child," reproved her mother, "you know what your father's opinion is about this wild life you lead." "A very hard-working life," retorted her daughter; "singing is not easy. For the rest, I assure you I am respectable." "It is not the life for a Karacsay, my dear. If you would only come back to Vienna and marry the man your father----" "I choose for myself when I marry," flashed out Olga, with a glance at the uncomfortable Giles. "Count Taroc can take another wife." The Princess, seeing that Giles found this conversation somewhat trying, refrained from further remark. She shrugged her ample shoulders, and sipped her coffee, which she complained was bad. "You do not know how to make coffee here," she said, unfurling a fan, "and it is cold, this England of yours." "Princess, to-night is warm!" expostulated Ware. "Nevertheless I have had a fire made up," she answered, pointing with her fan to the end of the room; "the landlord was so surprised." "He no doubt considered it to be an eccentricity of Her Highness," said Olga, with a laugh; "a cigarette, mother?" The Princess took one languidly, and moved her chair closer to the fire. The night--to Giles--was quite hot, and he could scarcely bear the stifling heat of the room. Windows and doors were closed, and the fire flamed up fiercely. Also some pastiles had been burnt by Olga, and added a heavy, sensuous scent to the atmosphere. Ware could not help comparing the room to the Venusberg, and the women to the sirens of that unholy haunt. Which of the two was Venus he did not take upon himself to decide. "I am used to the tropics," explained the Princess, puffing blue clouds of smoke. "I come from Jamaica; but I have been many years in Vienna, and in that cold Hungary," she shivered. "Ah, now I see, Princess, why you speak English so well," said Giles, and he might also have added that he now guessed why she was so Eastern in appearance and so barbaric in her taste for crude, vivid colors. She had negro blood in her veins he decided, and Olga also. This would account for the fierce temperament of the latter.