your employer. I see a rashness in your actions which I should have expected from my wife."
Reggie chuckled. "Well, well. And, of course, you don't like being rash!"
"On our arrival at Ragusa you may, if you choose, remain and be present at my daughter's marriage."
"Oh. Shall I be present, sir?" said Hilda, with a dangerous meekness.
"My dear child!" His Highness said affectionately. "Mr. Fortune—you have the happiness to be present at the betrothal of my daughter, the Duchesse de Zara, to my nephew, the Comte de Spoleto."
It was Reggie who preserved an appropriate calm. He only gave one chuckle.
"How? But—but it is incredible!" Spoleto cried in French, and recoiled, gesticulating.
The Prince flushed and glared at him.
Hilda stood up. "This is ridiculous, sir," she said, and was pale.
"Ridiculous, that is the word," Spoleto cried.
"Be silent, Spoleto. My dear child, you do not understand."
"I understand enough. You say you are my father. I think I ought to know my father. I—I do not mind knowing you. But this—it is absurd and insulting. I will not hear any more about it. This gentleman—I know nothing about him." She sur-
