or the Church.
He even went to Rome and entered the Austrian College. He'd have been on
the high road to a cardinalate by this time if he'd stuck to the
priesthood, for he had strong interest. But, lo and behold, when he was
about twenty, he chucked the whole thing up."

"Ah? _Histoire de femme?_"

"Very likely," she assented, "though I've never heard any one say so. At
all events, he left Rome, and started upon his travels. He had no money
of his own, but the Emperor made him an allowance. He started upon his
travels, and he went to India, and he went to America, and he went to
South Africa, and then, finally, in '87 or '88, he went--no one knows
where. He totally disappeared, vanished into space. He's not been heard
of since. Some people think he's dead. But the greater number suppose
that he tired of his false position in the world, and one fine day
determined to escape from it, by sinking his identity, changing his
name, and going in for a new life under new conditions. They call him
the Invisible Prince. His position _was_ rather an ambiguous one, wasn't
it? You see, he was neither one thing nor the other. He has no
_etat-civil_. In the eyes of the law he was a bastard, yet he knew
himself to be the legitimate son of the Duke of Zeln. He was a citizen
of no country, yet he was the rightful heir to a throne. He was the last
descendant of Stanislas Leczinski, yet it was without authority that he
bore his name. And then, of course, the rights and wrongs of the matter
were only known to a few. The majority of people simply remembered that
there had been a scandal. And (as a wag once said of him) wherever he
went, he left his mother's reputation behind him. No wonder he found the
situation irksome. Well, there is the story of the Invisible Prince."

"And a very exciting, melodramatic little story, too. For my part, I
suspect your Prince met a boojum. I love to listen to stories. Won't you
tell me another? Do, please," he pressed her.

"No, he didn't meet a boojum," she returned. "He went to England, and
set up for an author. The Invisible Prince and Victor Field are one and
the same person."

"Oh, I say! Not really!" he exclaimed.

"Yes, really."

"What makes you think so?" he wondered.

"I'm sure of it," said she. "To begin with, I must confide to you that
Victor Field is a man I've never met."

"Never met--?" he gasped. "But, by the blithe way in which you were
laying his sins at my door, a little while ago