"I hope she won't be sorry we came."
This time Robin knocked. As before, Brina opened the door a little way.
When she saw the two girls she scowled, but stepped backward, announcing
their presence in crisp German.
The mistress of the house rose a little hastily from the table before
which she was sitting. She was dressed, now, in a warm, trailing robe of
soft velvet, a band of ermine circling her neck and crossing over her
breast, where it was held in place by a brooch of flashing gems. At
sight of her visitors her face softened from haughty surprise to a
resigned amusement. Robin broke the silence.
"May we come in? We thought we'd like--that maybe you'd like--" Oh, it
was dreadful to know what to say, when all the time you were thinking
she really was a Queen!
"You have stumbled upon my little house again? Come in and sit down.
Brina and I do not often have callers; you must pardon us if, perhaps,
we are a little awkward in our hospitality. Caesar, lie down _He_ is glad
to see you! I have been looking over a book of colored prints of old
cathedrals. Would you like to pull your chairs up to the table and look
at them with me?"
Beryl blinked knowingly at Robin as much as to say: "Isn't that just
what an exiled Queen would be doing?" The prints were rare and
exceedingly lovely and Robin noticed that they had come from a New York
gallery.
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