After all, in the sea of faces before him, there were none familiar.
As the mask dropped--the ancient Greek thoughtfully adjusted his tunic.
Instantly without pause or warning the soft strain of the orchestra
swept dramatically into a powerful melody of measured cadences. It was
the tune Carl had played upon his flute to Jokai of Vienna months
before. The minstrel, mask in hand, stared at the orchestra, blanched
and bit his lip.
"God bless my soul!" exclaimed Queen Elizabeth to Jethro, "it's the
immigrant, Jethro, and there he was on the lace spread with his feet
tied and gurgling. I'll never forget his eyes."
"Jokai of Vienna!" said the Black Palmer, whistling. "By Jove, they've
trapped him nicely."
For an uncomfortable instant, the silence continued, then came the
saving stir of laughter and chatting.
The Bedouin with an unrelenting air of dignity and command, removed his
mask and bowed low; to Diane in whose startled eyes below the Seminole
turban flashed sympathy and acute regret.
"Miss Westfall," said he gravely, "permit me to present to you, Prince
Ronador of Houdania."
White and stern, his fine eyes flashing imperially, Ronador bowed.
"Rest assured, Miss Westfall," he said, "that I know you have not
betrayed my confidence.
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