whom we have been discussing. Look! Itis yonder, on the table in the corner. The one in the oval silverframe."
Hubert crossed to where she directed and there saw a large ovalphotograph which he had not before noticed, for he had neverparticularly examined the portraits in the room. Beneath was scrawledin a bold Italian hand the autograph--"Luisa di Savoia."
He gazed upon the pictured, smiling face, utterly staggered.
The portrait was that of Lola!
CHAPTER ELEVEN.
STRICTLY INCOGNITA.
That afternoon at half-past three o'clock, the hour when in winter allRome goes out for its airing on the Pincio, Hubert Waldron was idlingalong the terrace, gazing at the wonderful panorama of the Eternal Citystretched away before him in the yellow sundown.
In Rome it is the correct thing to go to the Pincio, and there payvisits to the Roman ladies who sit in their smart carriages orautomobiles as they slowly file up the historic hill and down on theother side. There, in those famous gardens of Lucullus, in which inancient days Messalina, the wife of Claudius, celebrated her orgies,modern Rome daily holds its daily alfresco reception, for everybody whois anybody in the capital goes there to see and to be seen.
Hubert had been chatting with the Baroness Lanzenhofen, an Austrianhostess very popular in Rome, but her carriage had moved on, and now hestood alone near the kerb looking out upon the wonderful view, and aboutto descend to the city and drive back in a taxi to his rooms in the ViaNazionale.
Behind him a procession of smart equipages of all kinds filed slowlyaround the terrace, when of a sudden he heard an excited cry--his name:
"Signor Waldron! Signor Waldron!"
Turning in sudden surprise, he found himself face to face with Lola who,seated alone in one of the royal carriages--a splendid landau bearingthe arms of Savoy upon its panels, a footman and coachman in the royallivery and powdered hair--was smiling at him mischievously.
He raised his hat and advancing eagerly took the little white-glovedhand outstretched to him, for the carriage had already pulled up, thefine pair of bays champing impatiently at their bits.
"Well!" he cried. "This is really a great surprise!"
"Yes. I heard that you had been transferred here from Madrid," shelaughed, speaking in English. "But oh! I've got lots to explain. Iwant to see you, Mr Waldron--to see you very particularly. I came herethis afternoon to find out if you were here. May I call on you thisevening? I know where you live, in the Via Nazionale. When will you beat home?"
He was rather taken aback. Ever since his discovery of her portrait inthe Embassy a couple of hours ago he had been plunged in thought, fordid he not know her secret--the secret of this madcap Princess who hadscandalised the Royal House of Savoy?
"This is really a great surprise to me, Mademoiselle Lola," he answered,scarce knowing what he said. "I, too, would like to have a chat withyou. But is it really wise for you to come to my rooms?" he asked inEnglish, glancing at the two royal servants sitting statuesque upon thebox.
"Nobody will know. These men do not know English. Shall we say at teno'clock to-night? I can get away then--not before, I fear. We have aCourt dinner."
"Very well," he said, looking into her splendid dark eyes. "At teno'clock then."
"_Addio_--eh! Till ten o'clock?" she laughed.
"But are you sure it would not be an injudicious step--to visit abachelor in his rooms?" he queried gravely.
"I don't care, Signor Waldron--if you don't. I always take everyprecaution. My maid, Renata, is as silent as the Sphinx we saw inEgypt. Do you remember? And how I fell off my camel?"
"Shall I ever forget those days?" he remarked as he took theoutstretched hand and bowed over it. "Very well, mademoiselle--at teno'clock."
"_Bene_. Then I will explain matters. You must be terribly puzzled. Isee it in your face," she laughed.
He smiled and as he stood hat in hand the royal carriage moved off, theonlookers staring to note that the popular young Princess should havestopped and have spoken to a man, an ordinary foot-passenger on thePincio.
For a second the diplomat glanced after her, then he turned upon hisheel and began to descend the winding roadway, past those busts of allthe distinguished Italians from Julius Caesar to Marin.
Before him lay that wonderful view of Rome, where beyond the Porta delPopolo and the new quarter with the Palazzo di Giustizia, on theopposite bank of the Tiber, rose the great dome of St Peter's from thegrey mists of the sunset, while on the right stood the spire of theChurch of Lourdes, the Vatican, and a portion of the Leontine wall.Away on the right rose Monte Mario with its dark funereal cypresses,while to the left of St Peter's could be seen the round castle of SantAngelo with the bronze angel that crowned it. The pines on the heightof the castle were familiar to him, being those of the Villa Lante onthe Janiculum with the Passeggiata Margherita on which the great statueof Garibaldi was the most conspicuous object.
And as he went along his mind was filled with thoughts of the strangesituation, and of the amazing discovery he had that day made.
Lola, his charming little friend of the Nile, at whose side he had sooften ridden over the desert, was actually a Princess of theblood-royal--the madcap Princess of the House of Savoy! And ere he haddescended the hill her splendid carriage with its jingling harnessflashed by him and she nodded merrily as he raised his hat, while twocavalry officers, recognising her, raised their hands in ceremonioussalute.
He was reflecting upon those idle sunny days in the far-off Nile-land,those evenings when the western sky was diffused and glorified with goldand saffron, and the shades of night crept up from the silent bosom ofthe desert where the Bedouins and Bishareen halted their caravans tocamp.
In that sunset hour he knew that the faces of the devout were now turnedtowards Mecca--away from that golden mystery and beauty that the sun hadplaced in the west--to recite their evening prayers. And up from themists, as he gazed away across to the low purple hills of the Campagnarose that sweet, smiling, beautiful face--the face which he had onceagain gazed upon, though he had believed it had passed out of his kenfor ever.
Punctually at ten o'clock that evening Waldron's English valet, Peters--the faithful, clean-shaven, but hunch-backed old Peters who had beenwith him over ten years--ushered Lola, a sweet-faced, girlish figureinto his sitting-room where he stood ready to receive her.
"Really, Mr Waldron, what awfully jolly quarters you have here!" sheexclaimed, glancing quickly around the well-furnished bachelor room.The man he had succeeded at the Embassy believed in personal comfort,and had furnished his flat in English style. Therefore he had beenfortunate in being able to purchase it cheaply, for its owner had beentransferred to Tokio.
"Yes," her host agreed: "they're not half bad. But," he added, "do youreally think it prudent to come and visit me at this hour?"
"Why not? I couldn't very well come in the daytime. Somebody mightrecognise me."
"But is not ten o'clock at night a rather unusual time for a young ladyto visit a bachelor?" he queried.
"Well, I don't mind," she laughed gaily. "But there, you're such adear, conventional old thing!"
He noted that, contrary to her appearance in the afternoon, when she hadworn a smart costume and hat which was evidently the latest creation ofthe Rue de la Paix, she was now very neatly, almost shabbily dressed ina plain blue serge coat and skirt which had seen its best days, a small,close-fitting little hat which showed evident signs of wear, and sadlyworn furs.
She noticed that he surveyed her as she took the armchair he offeredher.
"Yes," she said, "it is very fortunate that my maid, Renata, is aboutthe same figure as myself, and that her clothes fit me. I usually passas her when I go out at night. The sentries change every week, so aslong as I am dressed as a maid I have no difficulty--though I sometimeshave trouble to avoid the other servants."
"I should think you run very great risks of recognition," he remarked."And if the truth leaked out would there not
be some serious trouble?"
"Trouble! Oh, I dread to think of it!" she declared with a shrug of theshoulders. "I receive daily lectures about my non-observance of thesocial amenities, my lack of personal pride, and all that. But there--Mr Waldron, you must, I know, have been greatly surprised at meeting meto-day. I know I deceived you. But it was imperative, as I was thentravelling incognita. So I hope you will forgive me."
"You practised a very cruel deception upon me," he said with mockseverity. "And I don't know if I really ought to forgive you."
"Oh yes, you will--you dear old thing," she cried persuasively, laughingin his face. He was double her age, therefore the endearing terms inwhich she addressed him were not exactly out of place. Yet,
Her Royal Highness: A Romance of the Chancelleries of Europe Page 15
