“Really, Major, you throw your opportunities away,” he said, and I saw he did not believe me.

“What opportunities?” I asked.

He smiled.  “Well, not those for prevarication, certainly.”

“Isn’t that a necessary qualification of a diplomatic attache?” I said.

“Quite the most important,—­and I don’t doubt you will find it useful before you leave Valeria.”

Then the band blared out into a waltz and the crowd drew away from the centre of the floor.  I expected the real Heir Presumptive to lead out the Princess.  I admit I was curious to see him.  Report made him a very able young fellow, and his pictures showed a goodly figure.  Instead, however, someone in a Colonel’s uniform was her partner to open the dance.  I turned to Courtney interrogatingly.

“It is Prince Charles, Lotzen’s brother,” he explained.

“And the Duke?” I asked.

“Still with the Army, I suppose.”

Then the Princess swung by and, catching my eye, gave me a quick smile.

“Sort of a relief, isn’t it?” Courtney remarked.

I nodded mechanically.

“Only I wouldn’t tell her so,” he said.

“Wouldn’t tell her what?” I demanded.

“That you were relieved to know she could dance.”

“I never doubted it,” I said shortly.

He looked surprised.  “Oh!” he remarked; “Oh!”—­and fell to stroking his imperial.

“Courtney,” said I, “you’re a great fool—­and I’m another.”

“True, Major, quite true; I found that out long ago.”

My irritation went down before his unfailing good nature.  It was always so.

“Since we are unanimous on that point,” I said, “I have no ground for quarrel.”

I danced the next number with Lady Helen, the youngest daughter of Lord Radnor, the British Ambassador.  We were old friends, after the modern fashion.  I had met her in Washington some four or five years before, while on staff duty, and we had danced and dined ourselves into each other’s regard.  Then, Lord Radnor was transferred to Dornlitz and I went back into active service.  So I had been altogether well pleased to find her with the Radnors when we chanced upon them during the stroll around the room, and I had engaged a pair of dances to give us a chance for a quiet little chat.

“Do you know, Major, for a stranger you are arousing extraordinary curiosity?” she remarked, as we sat on the terrace.

I smiled.  “Yes, I believe I am.”

She looked surprised.  “So you have heard of it?”

“I knew it years ago.”

“Oh, how stupid!” she exclaimed.  “Of course, this is not your first visit to Dornlitz.  Yet, it’s a queer coincidence that you should have both the family name and the great Henry’s features.”

“Oh, no,” said I; “not particularly queer, since I am his great-great-grandson.”

She closed her fan with a snap.  “His great-great-grandson!” she echoed.