“If it is your command, princess, I obey with alacrity.”

Etta spoke rapidly, looking round her all the while with the bright enjoyment which overspreads the faces of some women at almost any form of entertainment, provided there be music, brilliant lights, and a crowd of people.  One cannot help wondering a little what the minds of such fair ladies must consist of, to be thrown off their balance by such outward influences.  Etta’s eyes gleamed with excitement.  She was beautifully dressed in furs, which adornment she was tall and stately enough to carry to full advantage.  She held her graceful head with regal hauteur, every inch a princess.  She was enjoying her keenest pleasure—­a social triumph.  No whisper escaped her, no glance, no nudge of admiring or envious notice.  On Steinmetz’s arm she passed out of the tent; the touch of her hand on his sleeve reminded him of a thoroughbred horse stepping on to turf, so full of life, of electric thrill, of excitement was it.  But then, Karl Steinmetz was a cynic.  No one else could have thought of comparing Etta’s self-complaisant humor to that of a horse in a racing paddock.

They procured skates and glided off hand in hand, equally proficient, equally practised, maybe on this same lake; for both had learned to skate in Russia.

They talked only of the present, of the brilliancy of the fete, of the music, of the thousand lights.  Etta was quite incapable of thinking or talking of any other subject at that moment.

Steinmetz distinguished Claude de Chauxville easily enough, and avoided him with some success for a short time.  But De Chauxville soon caught sight of them.

“Here is M. de Chauxville,” said Etta, with a pleased ring in her voice.  “Leave me with him.  I expect you are tired.”

“I am not tired, but I am obedient,” replied Steinmetz, as the Frenchman came up with his fur cap in his hand, bowing gracefully.  Claude de Chauxville usually overdid things.  There is something honest in a clumsy bow which had no place in his courtly obeisance.

Although Steinmetz continued to skate in a leisurely way, he also held to his original intention of looking on.  He saw Paul and Maggie come back to the edge of the lake, accompanied by an English lady of some importance in Russia, with whom Maggie presently went away to the concert-room.

Steinmetz glided up to Paul, who was lighting a cigarette at the edge of the pond, where an attendant stood by an open wood fire with cigarettes and hot beverages.

“Get a pair of skates,” said the German.  “This ice is marvellous—­colossa-a-a-l.”

He amused himself with describing figures, like a huge grave-minded boy, until Paul joined him.

“Where is Etta?” asked the prince at once.

“Over there with De Chauxville.”

Paul said nothing for a few moments.  They skated side by side round the lake.  It was too cold to stand still even for a minute.