ncy, had captivated the Paris salons of an
earlier generation, and those same salons repaid their debt by
conferring the repose, the dignity, the subtle aura of distinction, that
constitute the aristocrat in outward bearing. For this reason, Princess
Delgrado was received in poverty stricken apartments where her husband
would be looked at askance, since the frayed Boulevard Saint Germain
still shelters the most exclusive circle in France.

Here, then, was an amazing instance of a one-sided heredity. Alexis
Delgrado evidently owed both mind and body to his mother. Looking at the
Princess, one saw that such a son of such a father did not become
sheerly impossible.

To-day, unhappily, neither Prince Michael nor his wife was in tune for a
family conclave. Monseigneur was ruffled, distinctly so, and Madame was
on the verge of tears.

When Alec entered the room he was aware of a sudden silence, accentuated
by a half-repressed sob from his mother. Instantly he took the blame on
his own shoulders. He expected difficulties; but he was not prepared for
a scene.

"Why, mother dear," he said, bending over her with a tenderness that
contrasted strongly with Prince Michael's affected indifference, "what
is the matter? Surely you and dad have not been worrying about me! You
can't keep me in the nest always, you know. And I only want to earn the
wherewithal to live. That is not so very terrible, is it?"

The distressed woman looked up at him with a wan smile. She seemed to
have aged since the morning. There was a pathetic weakness in her mouth
and chin that was noticeably absent from her son's strong lineaments,
and it occurred to Alec with a pang that he had never before seen his
mother so deeply moved.

"I suppose one must endure the world's changes," she murmured. "It was
foolish on my part to imagine that things could continue forever on the
same lines; but I shall not grieve, Alec, if no cloud comes between you
and me. It would break my heart----"

"Oh, come now!" he cried, simulating a lively good humor he was far from
feeling. "What has dad been saying? Clouds! Where are they? Not around
my head, at any rate. I have dispelled the only one that existed, the
silly halo of class that stops a fellow from working because he happens
to be born a Prince. It was different for dad, of course. My respected
grandfather, Ferdinand VII., was really a King, and dad was a grown man
when the pair of them were slung out of Kosnovia. Sorr