e of the foreign military
attaches. She was not aware of my presence, so I took up a position in
an alcove and watched her. If she had looked beautiful that afternoon,
she was doubly so now. I noticed that she was taller than the majority
of women present, but her slender figure was so exquisitely proportioned
that the fact at first glance was not apparent. The dance over, I
accosted her.

"I hope your dances are not all bespoken, Princess," I said. "I have the
liveliest recollection of your promise this afternoon."

"You may have the next waltz if you like," she answered. "We shall be
going on to Lady Basingstoke's in half an hour, so that I do not know
how many I shall have time for here."

"In that case I must have this one and endeavour to extort a dance from
that house also," I retorted. "Experience has taught me that there is
nothing like being beforehand in these little affairs."

Seeing how matters stood, the attache, with all the _aplomb_ of a
Frenchman, paid her a charming compliment, and gracefully took himself
off. We thereupon passed into the conservatory together.

"Is your father here to-night?" I inquired. "I have not seen him."

"No," said she. "Papa never condescends to dance. He is probably playing
ecarte at this moment at his club. I need not describe to you the
pleasure it gave him to make your acquaintance this afternoon."

I glanced at her to see whether she were joking, but her face was as
serious as even she could wish. Naturally, I expressed my delight at
what she had told me, but I could not help believing that she had
derived a wrong impression from her father's compliments. The Prince of
Lilienhoehe had been such a determined foe of my family for so many
years, that I could not see how making my acquaintance could possibly
afford him pleasure. However, I had no time to give to the subject then,
for the band was playing the introduction to the next waltz, and it was
time to return to the ball-room. A few steps were sufficient to show me
that the Princess, like all Pannonians, was an excellent dancer. To the
melody of one of Strauss' waltzes I steered her through the crowd. The
fragrance of her hair was intoxicating, and for some reason, I cannot
explain what, it carried me back to the day, so many years ago, when she
had taken my hand in hers, and had cemented our friendship with the
three magic words, "I like you." How little we had dreamed then of the
place where we should next meet,