The Princess Passes | Page 4

to myself and afterwards to Jack--may I tell you what I
said?"
"Please do. If it hurts, it will be a counter-irritant."
"Well, Jack had told me such heaps about you, you know, and he'd
hinted that, while we were having our great romance on a motor car,
you were having one on toboggans and skates at Davos, so I was
interested. Then I saw her at the ball, and we were introduced. She was
pretty, but--a prize white Persian kitten is pretty; also it has little claws.
She liked you, of course, because you're young and good-looking.
Besides, her father was knighted only because he discovered a new
microbe or something, while you're a 'hearl,' as my new maid says."
"A penniless 'hearl,'" I laughed.
"You must have plenty of pennies, for you seem to have everything a
man can want; but that is different from what a woman can want. I'm
sure Helen Blantock and her mother had an understanding. I can hear
Lady Blantock saying, 'Nell, dear, you may give Lord Lane
encouragement up to a certain point, for it would be nice to be a
countess; but don't let him propose yet. Who knows what may happen?'
Then what did happen was Sir Horace Jerveyson, who has more pounds
than you have pennies. Helen would console herself with the thought
that the wife of a knight is as much 'Lady So-and-So' as a countess. I
hate that grocerman, and as for Helen, you ought to thank heaven
fasting for your escape."
"Perhaps I shall some day, but that day is not yet," I answered.
"However, there is still Monte Carlo."
"Shall you drown your sorrows in roulette?" asked Molly, looking
horrified.
"Who knows?"

"Don't let her misjudge you," cut in Jack. "Have you forgotten what I
told you about the Italian Countess, Molly?"
"Oh, the Countess with whom Lord Lane used to flirt at Davos before
he met Miss Blantock? Now I see. You said that you were going to
Monte Carlo, on purpose to make Helen Blantock jealous."
"I'm afraid some spiteful idea of the sort was in my mind," I admitted.
"But the Countess is fascinating, and if she would be kind, Monte Carlo
might effect a cure of the heart, as Davos did of the lungs."
"I believe you're capable of marrying for pique. Oh, if I could prove to
you that you aren't, and never have been, in love with Helen!"
"It would be difficult."
"I'll engage to do it, if you'll take my prescription."
"What is that?"
"Cheerful society and amusement. In other words, Jack's and my
society, and a tour on our motor car."
"What, make a discord in the music of your duet?"
"Dear old boy, we want you," said Jack.
I was grateful. "I can't tell how much I thank you," I answered. "But I'm
in no mood for companionship. The fact is, I'm stunned for the moment,
but I fancy that presently I shall find out I'm rather hard hit."
"No, you won't, unless you mope," broke in Molly. "On the contrary,
you'll feel it less every day."
"Time will show," said I. "Anyhow, I must dree my own
weird--whatever that means. I don't know, and never heard of anyone
who did, but it sounds appropriate. I should like to do a walking tour
alone in the desert, if it were not for the annoying necessity to eat and
drink. I want to get away from all the people I ever knew or heard

of--with the exceptions named."
"One would think you were the only person disappointed in love!"
exclaimed Molly. "Why, I have a friend who has really suffered. Dear
little Mercédès----"
Mrs. Winston stopped suddenly, drawing in her breath. She looked
startled, as if she had been on the point of betraying a state secret; then
her eyes brightened; she began abstractedly to trace a leaf on the
damask tablecloth. "I have thought of just the thing for you," she said,
apparently apropos of nothing. "Why don't you buy or hire a mule to
carry your luggage, and walk from Switzerland down into Italy, not
over the high roads, but do a pass or two, and for the rest, keep to the
footpaths among the mountains, which would suit your mood?"
"The mule isn't a bad scheme," I replied. "A dirty man is an
independent animal, but a clean man, or one whose aim is to be clean,
is more or less helpless. If he has a weakness for a sponge bag, a clean
shirt or two, and evening things to change into after a long tramp, he
must go hampered by a caravan of beasts."
"One beast would do," said Molly practically, "unless you count the
muleteer, and that depends upon his disposition."
"I suppose muleteers