The Princess Passes   By: Alice Muriel Williamson (1869-1933)

A Romance of a Motor Car

by

C. N. and A. M. WILLIAMSON

Authors of The Lightning Conductor

Illustrated

New York Henry Holt and Company

1905

[Illustration: "FOOD FOR THE GODS, AND ONLY A BOY TO EAT IT."]

TO

THE DEAR PRINCESS

WHO, EACH YEAR, MAKES THE RIVIERA SUNNIER FOR HER PRESENCE

CONTENTS

CHAPTER

I. WOMAN DISPOSES

II. MERCÉDÈS TO THE RESCUE

III. MY LESSON

IV. POTS, KETTLES, AND OTHER THINGS

V. IN SEARCH OF A MULE

VI. THE WINGS OF THE WIND

VII. AT LAST!

VIII. THE MAKING OF A MYSTERY

IX. THE BRAT

X. THE SCRAPING OF ACQUAINTANCE

XI. A SHADOW OF NIGHT

XII. THE PRINCESS

XIII. AFTERNOON CALLS

XIV. THE PATH OF THE MOON

XV. ENTER THE CONTESSA

XVI. A MAN FROM THE DARK

XVII. THE LITTLE GAME OF FLIRTATION

XVIII. RANK TYRANNY

XIX. THE LITTLE RIFT WITHIN THE LUTE

XX. THE GREAT PAOLO

XXI. THE CHALLENGE

XXII. AN AMERICAN CUSTOM

XXIII. THERE IS NO SUCH GIRL

XXIV. THE REVENGE OF THE MOUNTAIN

XXV. THE AMERICANS

XXVI. THE VANISHING OF THE PRINCE

XXVII. THE STRANGE MUSHROOM

XXVIII. THE WORLD WITHOUT THE BOY

XXIX. THE FAIRY PRINCE'S RING

XXX. THE DAY OF SUSPENSE

XXXI. THE BOY'S SISTER

ILLUSTRATIONS

"FOOD FOR THE GODS, AND ONLY A BOY TO EAT IT" (Frontispiece)

"WE REALLY WANT YOU, SAID MOLLY"

"SOMETIMES JACK DROVE, WITH MOLLY BESIDE HIM"

"THE BLUE FLAME OF THE CHAFING DISH"

"I WAS SUDDENLY CLAPPED UPON THE SHOULDER"

"TREADING THE ROAD BUILT BY NAPOLÉON"

"THERE WAS A PANG WHEN I TURNED MY BACK"

"THAT IS THE DÉJEUNER OF NAPOLÉON"

"DOWN, TURK!" "BE QUIET, JUPITER!"

"ON THE GROUND CROUCHED THE BOY"

"'DO YOU KNOW,' SAID I, 'YOU ARE A VERY QUEER BOY'"

"LOOKING OUT OF THE WINDOW I SAW HIM IN CONVERSATION"

"SITTING WITH MY BACK TO THE HORSES"

"HERE WE WERE AT ANNECY"

"VOILÀ MONSIEUR!"

"THE ROCK OF MONACO"

CHAPTER I

Woman Disposes

"Away, away, from men and towns, To the wild wood and the downs, To the silent wilderness." PERCY BYSSHE SHELLEY.

"To your happiness," I said, lifting my glass, and looking the girl in the eyes. She had the grace to blush, which was the least that she could do, for a moment ago she had jilted me.

The way of it was this.

I had met her and her mother the winter before at Davos, where I had been sent after South Africa, and a spell of playing fast and loose with my health a possession usually treated as we treat the poor, whom we expect to have always with us. Helen Blantock had been the success of her season in London, had paid for her triumphs with a breakdown, and we had stopped at the same hotel.

The girl's reputation as a beauty had marched before her, blowing trumpets. She was the prettiest girl in Davos, as she had been the prettiest in London; and I shared with other normal, self respecting men the amiable weakness of wishing to monopolise the woman most wanted by others. During the process I fell in love, and Helen was kind.

Lady Blantock, a matron of comfortable rotundity of figure and a placid way of folding plump, white hands, had, however, a contradictorily cold and watchful eye, which I had feared at first; but it had softened for me, and I accepted the omen. In the spring, when my London tyrant had pronounced me "sound as a bell," I had proposed to Helen. The girl said neither yes nor no, but she had eyes and a smile which needed no translation, so I kissed her (it was in a conservatory at a dance) and was happy for a fortnight.

Then came this bidding to dinner. Lady Blantock wrote the invitation, of course, but it was natural to suppose that she did it to please her daughter. It happened to be my birthday, and I fancied that Helen had kept the date in mind. Besides, the selection of the guests had apparently been made with an eye to my pleasure.