tly without a
word and left the room.

We never, in all our experience, remember seeing a prince--or a mere man
for the matter of that--leave a room with greater suavity, discretion,
or aplomb. It was a revelation of breeding, of race, of long slavery to
caste. And yet, with it all, it seemed to have a touch of finality about
it--a hint that the entire proceeding was deliberate, planned, not to be
altered by circumstance. He did not come back.

We understand that he appeared later in the morning at a civic reception
in the costume of an Alpine Jaeger, and attended the matinee in the
dress of a lieutenant of police.

Meantime he has our pen. If he turns up in any costume that we can spot
at sight, we shall ask him for it.

II. WITH OUR GREATEST ACTOR

That is to say, with Any One of
our Sixteen Greatest Actors

It was within the privacy of his own library that we obtained--need we
say with infinite difficulty--our interview with the Great Actor. He was
sitting in a deep arm-chair, so buried in his own thoughts that he
was oblivious of our approach. On his knee before him lay a cabinet
photograph of himself. His eyes seemed to be peering into it, as if
seeking to fathom its unfathomable mystery. We had time to note that a
beautiful carbon photogravure of himself stood on a table at his elbow,
while a magnificent half-tone pastel of himself was suspended on a
string from the ceiling. It was only when we had seated ourself in a
chair and taken out our notebook that the Great Actor looked up.

"An interview?" he said, and we noted with pain the weariness in his
tone. "Another interview!"

We bowed.

"Publicity!" he murmured rather to himself than to us. "Publicity! Why
must one always be forced into publicity?"

It was not our intention, we explained apologetically, to publish or to
print a single word--

"Eh, what?" exclaimed the Great Actor. "Not print it? Not publish it?
Then what in--"

Not, we explained, without his consent.

"Ah," he murmured wearily, "my consent. Yes, yes, I must give it. The
world demands it. Print, publish anything you like. I am indifferent to
praise, careless of fame. Posterity will judge me. But," he added more
briskly, "let me see a proof of it in time to make any changes I might
care to."

We bowed our assent.

"And now," we began, "may we be permitted to ask a few questions about
your art? And first, in which branch of the drama do you consider that
your geniu