It consequently happened, on the morning following the events narrated
in the previous chapter, that there was another distinguished arrival at
the Grand Hotel Royal, to the delight and despair of Monsieur Pelletan.
"I shall need an apartment of at least five rooms, not higher than the
second floor," announced the duchess.
"If Madame la Duchesse had only notified us of t'is honour!" protested
Pelletan, with upraised hands. "I swear t'at I haff not'ing--
not'ing--not one single apartment wort'y off madame--not efen one leetle
room up under t'e gutters."
"Nonsense!" she interrupted, vigorously. "I have heard all that a
hundred times at least. Which apartment has my nephew?"
"Madame's nephew?"
"Certainly, imbecile! Monsieur le Prince de Markeld."
"Oh," cried Pelletan. "Monsieur le Prince hass apartment B de luxe."
"And so has twice as much room as he needs, of course. Well, take my
luggage up there, wherever it is. At my age, one is beyond the reach of
scandal, even at a Dutch bathing-resort. Where is Monsieur le Prince?"
"Monsieur le Prince iss taking t'e promenade," explained Pelletan.
"Very well; I have my toilette to make. When he returns, send him up to
me at once. Here, boy, apartment B," and followed by her maid, she
started up the stair, leaving Monsieur Pelletan staring, open-mouthed.
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