had gone away, when I first became aware
of the presence of the Baroness Bonnar. A light hand touched my sleeve,
and a foreign voice spoke to me in English.

"This is a noble occasion. I have never been so moved in my life. I have
cried until I am not fit to be seen."

Turning and looking at the speaker, I failed for a mere instant to
recognize her. I had seen her but twice before, and then only for a
moment at a time, and under circumstances of no especial interest. She
saw the doubt in my face, and reintroduced herself. She looked extremely
pretty, and even fascinating, in a coquettish little bonnet of the
fashion of that time.

When her face was in repose one could judge of her age, but when she
smiled all her wrinkles--and there were a good many of them--melted into
the smile, and her face looked almost girlishly young and innocent. She
owned that look of youth and freshness in spite of the fact that she was
rouged and powdered and painted as if she had been ready for the stage.
It was pretty easy to see that she had not been quite as much affected
by the "noble occasion" as she pretended to have been, for the slightest
shower of tears would have ruined that admirable and artistic make-up.

"I pass for Austrian," said the baroness; "but I am Hungarian all over,
and I hate, I hate, I hate the Austrians! If I had my way I would kill
them every one."

She spoke with a pretty enough pretence of vindictiveness, but her
manner was not very convincing.

Supposing I had been aware of this little person's purpose, what should
I have done, I wonder? What should I have been justified in doing? I had
rather not answer that question, even to myself. But if I had known for
a certainty what was in her heart, and what lay in the future, there are
not many things at which I should have hesitated to spoil her plans.

She did not find me very sympathetic or very ardent. I was tired, for
one thing, and for another I can never take very kindly to humbug, even
when a pretty woman offers it. The baroness turned from me to Brunow,
beseeching him to introduce her to the acquaintance of that dear and
charming Miss Rossano, who had so much her sympathy, and the spectacle
of whose natural emotion had so much affected her. I am not very
observant in such matters, but though Brunow disguised it pretty well,
I am sure that I noticed some reluctance in his manner. He made the
presentation, however, and the baroness flowed out in sympathy an