Where shall it be--Egypt or the steppes of
Siberia?"
"Home first," said I; "then we shall decide."
When we got into the carriage we lit cigars. For some reason Pembroke
was less talkative than usual. Suddenly he pulled down the window, and
a gust of snow blew in. Then up went the window again, but the cigar
was gone.
"Has anything gone wrong?" I asked.
"'One more unfortunate. . . . Make no deep scrutiny!'" he quoted.
"Jack, she wouldn't think of it, not for a moment. Perhaps I was a
trifle too soon. Yes, she is a Princess, indeed. As for me, I shall
go back to elephants and tigers; it's safer."
"'The Bridge of Sighs,'" said I. "Let us cross it for good and all."
"And let it now read 'Sighs Abridged.'"
He asked me no questions, and I silently thanked him. Once in our
rooms, he drank a little more brandy than I thought good for one "who
may or may not live the year out." I told him so. He laughed. And
then I laughed. Both of us did it theatrically; it was laughter, but
it was not mirth.
"Cousin," said I, "that's the idea; let us laugh. Love may sit on the
windowsill and shiver to death.
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