The Princess Passes

蔦
The Princess Passes, by Alice Muriel

The Project Gutenberg eBook, The Princess Passes, by Alice Muriel Williamson and Charles Norris Williamson
This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with almost no restrictions whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.net

Title: The Princess Passes
Author: Alice Muriel Williamson and Charles Norris Williamson
Release Date: January 20, 2005 [eBook #14740]
Language: English
Character set encoding: ISO-8859-1
***START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE PRINCESS PASSES***
E-text prepared by Rick Niles, Ronald Holder, and the Project Gutenberg Online Distributed Proofreading Team

Note: Project Gutenberg also has an HTML version of this file which includes the original illustrations. See 14740-h.htm or 14740-h.zip: (http://www.gutenberg.net/dirs/1/4/7/4/14740/14740-h/14740-h.htm) or (http://www.gutenberg.net/dirs/1/4/7/4/14740/14740-h.zip)

THE PRINCESS PASSES
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.
There was Jack Winston, who had lately married an American heiress, not because she was an heiress, but because she was adorable; there was the heiress herself, née Molly Randolph, whom I had known through Winston's letters before I saw her lovely, laughing face; there was Sir Horace Jerveyson, the richest grocer in the world, whom I suspected Lady Blantock of actually regarding as a human being, and a suitable successor to the late Sir James. Besides these,