She cut him an immense triangle out of the cake, and again she thought of Mr. Brand. Felix sat there, with his glass in one hand and his huge morsel of cake in the other—eating, drinking, smiling, talking. “I am very hungry,” he said. “I am not at all tired; I am never tired. But I am very hungry.”

“You must stay to dinner,” said Gertrude. “At two o’clock. They will all have come back from church; you will see the others.”

“Who are the others?” asked the young man. “Describe them all.”

“You will see for yourself. It is you that must tell me; now, about your sister.”"My sister is the Baroness Münster," said Felix. On hearing that his sister was a Baroness, Gertrude got up and walked about slowly, in front of him. She was silent a moment. She was thinking of it. 
"Why didn’t she come, too?" she asked.
"She did come; she is in Boston, at the hotel."
"We will go and see her," said Gertrude, looking at him.
"She begs you will not!" the young man replied. "She sends you her love; she sent me to announce her. She will come and pay her respects to your father."
Gertrude felt herself trembling again. A Baroness Münster, who sent a brilliant young man to "announce" her; who was coming, as the Queen of Sheba came to Solomon, to pay her "respects" to quiet Mr. Wentworth—such a personage presented herself to Gertrude’s vision with a most effective unexpectedness. For a moment she hardly knew what to say. "When will she come?" she asked at last.
"As soon as you will allow her—tomorrow. She is very impatient," answered Felix, who wished to be agreeable.
"Tomorrow, yes," said Gertrude. She wished to ask more about her; but she hardly knew what could be predicated of a Baroness Münster. "Is she—is she—married?"
Felix had finished his cake and wine; he got up, fixing upon the young girl his bright, expressive eyes. "She is married to a German prince—Prince Adolf, of Silberstadt-Schreckenstein. He is not the reigning prince; he is a younger brother."
Gertrude gazed at her informant; her lips were slightly parted. "Is she a—a Princess?" she asked at last.
"Oh, no," said the young man; "her position is rather a singular one. It’s a morganatic marriage."
"Morganatic?" These were new names and new words to poor Gertrude.
"That’s what they call a marriage, you know, contracted between a scion of a ruling house and—and a common mortal. They made Eugenia a Baroness, poor woman; but that was all they could do. Now they want to dissolve the marriage. Prince Adolf, between ourselves, is a ninny; but his brother, who is a clever man, has plans for him. Eugenia, naturally enough, makes difficulties; not, however, that I think she 

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