connoisseurs care little for politics. To them a new Giotto
is vastly more important than a new King, and I am told that both are to
be found in Delgratz nowadays."

Prince Michael strolled up. He was pleased that his wife had made the
acquaintance of the charming unknown, whom he had looked for in vain
during the day.

"Ah," he said, with polite hat flourish, "I feared we had lost the
pleasant company of which I heard----"

"You were misinformed," broke in his wife hastily in English. "This
young lady is visiting Delgratz for art purposes. The gentleman who sang
last night is the celebrated painter, Monsieur--Monsieur----"

"Felix Poluski," said Joan.

Prince Michael started as though a scorpion had found a crack in his
patent boots.

"Poluski--Felix Poluski!" he cried. "I know that name; but he was fond
of using strange colors on his palette if I remember rightly."

Felix, owing to his small stature, was compelled to dodge among the
crowd on the platform like a child. He appeared now unexpectedly, and
Michael's exclamation was not lost on him.

"Excellent, Monseigneur!" he said. "You always had a turn for epigram. I
am glad to find that you have not forgotten the brave days of old when
you and I used to spout treason together, you because you hungered after
a dynasty, and I because I preferred dynamite. Odd thing, both words
mean power, strength, sovereignty; the difference lies only in the
method of application. But that was in our hot youth, Michael----"

"Imbecile!" hissed the Prince, his red face blanching, as once before
when a man spoke of the perils that hedge a throne in the Balkans. "This
is Vienna. I shall be recognized!"

Felix snapped his fingers. "They don't care that for you,
Monseigneur--never did! You could have come and gone as you pleased any
time during these thirty years. If any one is feared here, it is I. But,
my veteran, why this display of wrath? You know me well enough. Didn't
you see me last night?"

"No--that is, I did not recollect. Your face was hidden."

"Ah, you had something better to look at. Well, who goes to Delgratz?
Get aboard, all!"

During this brief but illuminating conversation the Princess and Joan
could do nothing else but gaze from one man to the other in mute
surprise, and Joan was grieved beyond measure that Felix should treat
Alec's father with such scant courtesy. Even while they were making for
the steps of the sleeping cars, she managed to whisper tremu