“You are very kind.”

Stephanie rose slowly to her feet, leaned gracefully over and kissed her hostess on both cheeks, and submitted her hand to the Prince, who raised it to his lips.  Then she turned to Dominey.

“Will you be so kind as to see me home?” she asked.  “Afterwards, my car can take you on wherever you choose to go.”

“I shall be very happy,” Dominey assented.

He, too, made his farewells.  A servant in the hall handed him his hat and coat, and he took his place in the car by Stephanie’s side.  She touched the electric switch as they glided off.  The car was in darkness.

“I think,” she murmured, “that I could not have borne another moment of this juggling with words.  Leopold—­we are alone!”

He caught the flash of her jewels, the soft brilliance of her eyes as she leaned towards him.  His voice sounded, even to himself, harsh and strident.

“You mistake, Princess.  My name is not Leopold.  I am Everard Dominey.”

“Oh, I know that you are very obstinate,” she said softly, “very obstinate and very devoted to your marvellous country, but you have a soul, Leopold; you know that there are human duties as great as any your country ever imposed upon you.  You know what I look for from you, what I must find from you or go down into hell, ashamed and miserable.”

He felt his throat suddenly dry.

“Listen,” he muttered, “until the hour strikes, I must remain to you as to the world, alone or in a crowd—­Everard Dominey.  There is one way and one way only of carrying through my appointed task.”

She gave a little hysterical sob.

“Wait,” she begged.  “I will answer you in a moment.  Give me your hand.”

He opened the fingers which he had kept clenched together, and he felt the hot grip of her hand, holding his passionately, drawing it toward her until the fingers of her other hand, too, fell upon it.  So she sat for several moments.

“Leopold,” she continued presently, “I understand.  You are afraid that I shall betray our love.  You have reason.  I am full of impulses and passion, as you know, but I have restraint.  What we are to one another when we are alone, no soul in this world need know.  I will be careful.  I swear it.  I will never even look at you as though my heart ached for your notice, when we are in the presence of other people.  You shall come and see me as seldom as you wish.  I will receive you only as often as you say.  But don’t treat me like this.  Tell me you have come back.  Throw off this hideous mask, if it be only for a moment.”

He sat quite still, although her hands were tearing at his, her lips and eyes beseeching him.

“Whatever may come afterwards,” he pronounced inexorably, “until the time arrives I am Everard Dominey.  I cannot take advantage of your feelings for Leopold Von Ragastein.  He is not here.  He is in Africa.  Perhaps some day he will come back to you and be all that you wish.”