When she had shut the vanity box with a sharp snap, she pressed the
electric bell, and waited with her head bowed. She kept it bowed when
the beautiful Storm-cloud opened the door, and still while she inquired
in French for Miss Grant.
There was no one in the pretty American-looking drawing-room when
Nathalie ushered her in. Throwing a quick glance around, the Princess
chose a chair so placed that her back was turned not only to the window
but to a table with an electric lamp on it, which would in all
probability soon be lighted. Hardly was she seated, when the door was
thrown open quickly, and Mary came in.
Princess Della Robbia rose, her left arm thrust into her big ermine
muff, so that her right hand might be free if it must be given in
greeting. But she did not step forward as if eager to greet Vanno's
fiancee.
"Princess Della Robbia?" Mary said, rather shyly. "How good of you to
come to see me."
She put out her hand and took that of the Princess. This brought them
close together, and as they were of nearly the same height, they looked
into each other's faces, though the Princess still kept her head
slightly bent, her eyes and forehead in shadow.
"Marie Grant!"
Mary cried out the name sharply.
"Hush!" said the Princess, with a convulsive pressure on the other's
hand. "For God's sake! Don't ruin me!"
Mary, with the last rays of afternoon light full on her face, turned
pale to the lips, and the pupils of her eyes seemed to dilate.
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