with which I am connected. Only in this case I
claim to take the place of the Countess Lucille, my wife. I request that
the task, whatever it may be which you have imposed upon her, may be
transferred to me."

The Prince's smile was sweet, but those who knew him best wondered what
evil it might betoken for his ancient enemy.

"You offer yourself, then, as a full member?"

"Assuredly!"

"Subject," he drawled, "to all the usual pains and privileges?"

"Certainly!"

The Prince played with the cards upon the table. His smooth, fair face
was unruffled, almost undisturbed. Yet underneath he was wondering
fiercely, eagerly, how this might serve his ends.

"The circumstances," he said at last, "are peculiar. I think that we
should do well to consult together--you and I, Felix, and Raoul here."

The two men named rose up silently. The Prince pointed to a small
round table at the farther end of the apartment, half screened off by a
curtained recess.

"Am I also," Mr. Sabin asked, "of your company?"

The Prince shook his head.

"I think not," he said. "In a few moments we will return."

Mr. Sabin moved away with a slight enigmatic gesture. Lucille gathered
up her skirts, making room for him by her side on a small sofa.

"It is delightful to see you, Victor," she murmured. "It is delightful
to know that you trusted me."

Mr. Sabin looked at her, and the smile which no other woman had ever
seen softened for a moment his face.

"Dear Lucille," he murmured, "how could you ever doubt it? There was a
day, I admit, when the sun stood still, when, if I had felt inclined to
turn to light literature, I should have read aloud the Book of Job. But
afterwards--well, you see that I am here."

She laughed.

"I knew that you would come," she said, "and yet I knew that it would
be a struggle between you and them. For--the Prince--" she murmured,
lowering her voice, "had pledged his word to keep us apart."

Mr. Sabin raised his head, and his eyes traveled towards the figure of
the man who sat with his back to them in the far distant corner of the
room.

"The Prince," he said softly, "is faithful to his ancient enmities."

Lucille's face was troubled. She turned to her companion with a little
grimace.

"He would have me believe," she murmured, "that he is faithful to other
things besides his enmities."

Mr. Sabin smiled.

"I am not jealous," he said softly, "of the Prince of Saxe Leinitzer!"

As though attracted by t