'And his Highness is not yet perfectly recovered.'
'Not yet. We despaired of his life, Hans, at one time, but thanks to
an excellent constitution, he came safely through the ordeal.'
'We must take care of him, your Highness.'
'Yes, indeed,' said Aribert solemnly, 'his life is very precious to
Posen.'
At that moment, Eugen, Hereditary Prince of Posen, entered the
audience chamber. He was pale and languid, and his uniform
seemed to be a trouble to him. His hair had been slightly ruffled,
and there was a look of uneasiness, almost of alarmed unrest, in
his fine dark eyes. He was like a man who is afraid to look behind
him lest he should see something there which ought not to be
there. But at the same time, here beyond doubt was Royalty.
Nothing could have been more striking than the contrast between
Eugen, a sick man in the shabby house at Ostend, and this Prince
Eugen in the Royal apartments of the Grand Babylon Hotel,
surrounded by the luxury and pomp which modern civilization can
offer to those born in high places. All the desperate episode of
Ostend was now hidden, passed over. It was supposed never to
have occurred. It existed only like a secret shame in the hearts of
those who had witnessed it. Prince Eugen had recovered; at any
rate, he was convalescent, and he had been removed to London,
where he took up again the dropped thread of his princely life.
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