e
considered for a moment, and then reverted to the previous question. "So
you did not know that my vivid young friend's name was Blanchemain?"

"No," said Maria Dolores.

"It is a good name--there's none better in England," averred the old
lady, with a nod of emphasis that set the wheat-ears in her bonnet
quivering.

"Oh--?" said Maria Dolores, looking politely interested.

"He's the nephew and heir of Lord Blanchemain of Ventmere," her
instructress went on. "That is one of our most ancient peerages."

"Really?" said Maria Dolores. (What else did she say in her heart? Where
now was her cobbler's son?)

"And I'm glad to be able to add that I'm his sort of connection--I'm the
widow of the late Lord Blanchemain." The lady paused; then, with that
smile of hers which we know, that smile which went as an advance-guard
to disarm resentment, "People of my age are allowed to be inquisitive,"
she premised. "I have introduced myself to you--won't you introduce
yourself to me?"

"My name is Maria Dolores of Zelt-Neuminster," answered the person
questioned, also smiling.

The widow of the late Lord Blanchemain inwardly gasped, but she was
quick to suppress all outward symptoms of that circumstance. The
daughter of Eve in her gasped, but the practised old Englishwoman of the
world affably and imperturbably pronounced, with a gracious movement of
the head, "Ah, indeed? You are then, of course, a relation of the
Prince?"

"I am the Prince's sister," said Maria Dolores. And, as if an
explanation of her presence was in order, she added, "I am here visiting
my old nurse and governess, to whom my brother has given a pavilion of
the Castle for her home."

Lady Blanchemain fanned herself. "A miller's daughter!" she thought,
with a silent laugh at John's expense and her own. "I am very glad to
have made your acquaintance," she said, "and I hope this may not be our
last meeting. I'm afraid I ought now to be hastening back to Roccadoro.
I wonder whether you will have the kindness, when you see him, to convey
my parting benediction to Mr. Blanchemain. Oh, no, I would not let him
be wakened, not for worlds. Thank you. Good-bye."

And with a great effect of majesty and importance, like a conscious
thing, her carriage rolled away.

III

"My romance is over, my April dream is ended," said the Princess, with
an air, perhaps a feint, of listless melancholy, to Frau Brandt.

"What mean you?" asked Frau Brandt, unmoved.

"M