ety. At the very
door of her hotel she began to exchange pleasantries with the landlord,
who came forward to greet her with the announcement that a gentleman, a
count, had called upon her in her absence.

"Count who?" asked the princess, whereupon she was presented with a card
bearing the name of Benjamin Vajdar. But she read it without losing a
particle of her serenity, and then ordered an elaborate lunch.

While her dishes were preparing, she sent for a hair-dresser and for a
maid to assist at her toilet. She wished to make herself
beautiful--even more beautiful than usual--and, indeed, she accomplished
her object. Her slender form, its height accentuated by a long bodice,
looked still taller from the imposing manner in which her hair was
dressed. Her features, until then somewhat drawn by the strain of
constant anxiety, gained now a vivacity that was matched by the added
colour that glowed in her cheeks. A single morning in the Italian sun
had, it would have seemed to an observer, worked wonders in her
appearance. But what she herself marvelled at most of all was the new
light that shone in her eyes. What could have caused this
transformation? The weapon which she held in her hands,--"the fourteenth
paragraph of the Secret Instructions." What cared she that to her these
words were utterly meaningless? It sufficed her to know that there was
such a paragraph; _he_ had told her so.

A waiter announced that her lunch was served. Ordinarily Blanka ate no
more than a sick child; now she was conscious of an appetite like that
of a convalescent making up for a long series of lost meals. The
dainties which she had ordered tasted uncommonly appetising. While she
was busy with her oysters, the head waiter informed her that the "count"
had come a second time and begged leave to wait upon her.

"Show him up," promptly replied the princess, without allowing her
lunch to be interrupted in the least.

The handsome young man already introduced to the reader was ushered in.
The situation in which he found the princess seemed scarcely to
harmonise with his plans. It rendered exceedingly difficult any approach
to the sentimental.

"Set a chair for the gentleman," Blanka commanded her attendant,
speaking, as if from forgetfulness, in Hungarian, and then correcting
herself with a great show of surprise at her own carelessness.
"_Grazie!_ And now, sir, pray be seated. You will pardon me if I go on
with my lunch. We can converse just