To dream of her--yes! To see her face shining upon him from every beautiful place, to feel the delight of her presence with every delicious sensation,--the warmth of the sunlight, the perfume of the blossoms he loved! There was joy in this, the joy of the artist and the lover.

But to find her in his life, a real person, a daughter of this new world, whose every instinct would be at war with his--that way lay slavery! He brushed the very thought from him.
As he reached the door of his house in St.James' Square, it opened slowly before him.

He had brought his own servants from his own country, and in their master's absence sleep was not for them.

His butler spoke to him in his own language.

The Prince nodded and passed on.