“Grosse!” he cried, “well met.”  And then, in low, quick tones he added:  “What am I going to see at the top of this ascent?  This amazing young woman!  What does it mean, eh?  I knew the wicked old mother.  Tell me, was she really married to David Bright all the time?  Was it Enoch Arden the other way up?  But we must go on,” for other late arrivals were joining them.  When they reached the landing the two men stood aside for a moment, for they saw that it was too late for them to be announced.  Royalty was going in to supper.

A line of couples was crossing the nearest room, from one within.  The great square drawing-room was lit entirely by candles in the sconces that were part of the permanent decoration.  But the many lights hardly penetrated into the great depths of the pictures let into the walls.  These big, dark canvases by some forgotten Italian of the school of Veronese, gave the room something of the rich gloom of a Venetian palace.  Beyond a few stacks of lilies in the corners, Molly had done nothing to relieve its solemn dignity.  As she came across it from the opposite corner, the depths of the old pictures were the background to her white figure.

She was bending her head towards the Prince who was taking her down—­a tall, fair man with blue eyes and a heavy jaw.  Then as she came near the doorway she raised her head and saw Edmund.  There was a strange, soft light in her eyes as she looked at him.  It was the touch of soul needed to give completeness to her magnificence as a human being.  The white girlish figure in that room fitted the past as well as the present.  The great women of the past had been splendidly young too, whereas we keep our girls as children, comparatively speaking.

Molly had that combination of youth and experience which gives a special character to beauty.  There was no detailed love of fashion in her gorgeous simplicity of attire; there was rather something subtly in keeping with the house itself.

The Prince turned to speak to the Ambassador, and the little procession stopped.

Edmund was more artistic in taste than in temperament, and he was not imaginative.  But he could not enjoy the full satisfaction of his fastidious tastes to-night, nor had he his usual facility for speech.  He could not bring himself to utter one word to Molly.  They stood for that moment close together, looking at each other in a silence that was electric.  No wonder that Molly thought his incapacity to speak a wonderful thing; others, too, noticed it.

“What a bearing that girl has!  What movement!” cried the Ambassador, as, after greeting the first few couples who passed him, he drew Grosse to a corner and looked at him curiously.  But Edmund seemed moonstruck.  Then, in a perfunctory voice, he said slowly.

“What is the writing in that picture?”

“Mene Thekel Phares,” said his friend.  “My dear Grosse! surely you know a picture of the ‘Fall of Babylon’ when you see it?  Now let us go where we shall not be interrupted.  Tell me all about this girl with the amazing bearing and big eyes, whom princes delight to honour, and Duchesses to dine with!  How did she get dear Rose Bright’s money?”