'I can never marry,'
he replied. 'Why not?' I asked him. 'Because there are no women of the
Shan line alive,' he answered. Later, he took pity on my bewilderment.
He let me understand. For two thousand years, no Shan has married, save
one of his own line. To ally himself with a princess of the royal house
of England would be a mesalliance which would disturb his ancestors in
their graves. Of course, this sounds to us very ridiculous, but to him
it isn't. It is part of the religion of his life."
"You are not very encouraging, are you?" Maggie remarked. "Perhaps he
has changed since those days."
Her companion shook his head.
"I should say not," he replied, "the Prince is not of the order of those
who change."
"Is it matrimony alone," she asked, "which he denies himself?"
Chalmers glanced towards Mrs. Bollington Smith, whose eyes were closed.
Then he nodded towards the stage.
"You see the woman who has just come upon the stage?"
Maggie glanced downwards. A very wonderful little figure in white satin,
lithe and sinuous as a cat, Chinese in the subtlety of her looks,
European in her almost sinister over-civilisation, stood smiling
blandly at the applauding audience.
"La Belle Nita," Maggie murmured. "I thought she was in Paris. Well,
what of her?"
"She is reputed to be a protegee of Prince Shan. You see how she looks
up at his box."
Maggie was conscious of a queer and almost incomprehensible stab at the
heart.
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