For the
past two years she has bewitched him"--she pointed down the drive
to where the royal coach was disappearing in the distance--"and
he has given her everything.
"It was for her that the Duke of Bellarmine built the magnificent
chalet of which I was telling you on Lake Lucerne. You remember
that Prince Dolansky shot himself 'for political reasons' in his
Parisian palace? But for Desiree he would be alive to-day. She is
a witch and a she-devil, and the most completely fascinating
woman in the world."
I smiled.
"What a reputation! And you say she is going to America?"
"Yes. It is to be supposed that she has heard that every
American is a king, and it is no wonder if she is tired of only
one royal lover at a time. And listen, Paul--"
"Well?"
"You--you must not meet her. Oh, but you do not know her power!"
I laughed and pressed her hand, assuring her that I had no
intention of allowing myself to be bewitched by a she-devil; but
as our carriage turned and started back down the long drive
toward the hotel I found myself haunted by the white face and
staring eyes of the young man in the royal coach.
I stayed two weeks longer in Madrid.
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