“And the sort you prefer in your admirers?”

She raised her eyebrows—­“In my relatives—­undoubtedly.”

“Come,” said I, “we must not quarrel.”

“It would be the regular thing; I fight with all my relatives.”

A footman handed the King a card, received a message, and withdrew.

“Then let me prove an exception,” I cut in.

“I am quite willing; squabbles are so stupid.”

“Speaking of cousins; have you quarrelled with Lotzen?”

“Scores of times; we are in the distant bowing stage now.”

“Good,” said I.  “I trust it will continue indefinitely.”

“We always make up and get very chummy after he has been absent for any time,” she returned.

“I wonder how he will view his new cousin?” I said.

The Princess laughed.  “With considerable surprise, I fancy; particularly if he meet you in that uniform in a dimly-lighted corridor of the palace, at night.”

“Have the Dalbergs no ghost such as is appurtenant to all well-regulated royal families?”

“Alas!  We have not; but you could give us a fine one.”

“Well, I won’t,” I said.

“And yet, who knows?” she reflected with sudden seriousness; “your very resemblance to yonder picture may, sometime, be of service to you.”

“Then, I shall not hesitate to use it.”

“At any rate, I hope I shall be by when my cousin of Lotzen gets his first look at you.”

“As the family spectre or in propria persona?”

“As both; but in persona, first,” she said.

Just then, the corridor door swung back, and a voice announced: 

“His Royal Highness, the Duke of Lotzen!”

The Princess caught her breath, in surprise, and glanced quickly at the King.

“Does His Highness always grant your wishes so promptly?” I asked.

But she did not hear me.  She was watching the Duke as he advanced to the King and bent knee.

And I, too, watched him; and with interest—­this man, with whom I proposed to make a contest for the throne.

He had the grace of one reared in Courts and the ease of one born to high command.  He made me feel awkward even as I sat.  His height was not above the medium, but his figure was so well proportioned he seemed almost my own size—­and, yet, I knew I would top him by three inches.  He wore the full dress uniform of a Lieutenant-General of Cavalry; and, with his black hair and moustache and well-cut face, he looked, in every line, the dashing beau sabreur.

When he had greeted the King, and spoken to Lady Helen, he turned and, with eyes on Dehra, came toward us.  Courtney and I arose and stepped back.  The Princess swung around in her chair and gave him her hand, but without a word of welcome—­and he spoke none.  Then, as he unbent, his eyes rested on me for the first time.

[Illustration:  Then, as he unbent, his eyes rested on me for the first time.]