Baron Tregar is an ardent patriot who by
virtue of his office must needs object to democratic masquerading."
The Baron stroked his beard.
"For inspiring the musical ceremony due your rank, Prince," he said
dryly, "I crave indulgence."
Smiling, the ancient Greek at the Baron's elbow unmasked, to show the
cheerful face of Mr. Poynter.
"Prince," said Mr. Poynter, "I sincerely trust I have made no error in
transcribing the Regent's Hymn for our excellent musicians. Having
heard it so many times in your presence in Houdania, I could not well
forget. At your service," with a glance at his Grecian attire,
"Herodotus, father of nomads!"
But Ann Sherrill in the gorgeous raiment of a Semiramis was already at
hand, sparkling italics upon her royal guest, and Philip moved aside.
"I am _overwhelmed_!" whispered Ann a little later. "I am _indeed_! I
was not in the _least_ aware that our mysterious incognito was a
prince, were you, Diane?"
"Yes," said Diane. Her color was very high and she deliberately
avoided the imploring eyes of Mr. Poynter.
"What in the _world_ is it all about?" begged Ann helplessly. "And
_who_ was the grayish monk who flitted about so mysteriously telling us
that the minstrel was a _prince_! It spread like wildfire.
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