g as she did so: 'The Duke of
Zollern and Punch together must make even a dark day bright!'

'Madame, in these days the last title might describe me perfectly,' he
said. Then as he saw the inquiring look on the faces around him, he
added: 'Autrefois j'etais polichon, aujourd'hui, helas! ne suis-je qu'un
vieux Polichinelle--"Punch" they call it in England.'

'Monseigneur, Punch must be a pretty wit indeed if he be like your
Grace,' said Stafforth, with his usual desire to ingratiate himself with
the great of the earth; but Monsieur de Zollern did not deign to answer.
Like Madame de Ruth he preferred less directly expressed adulation. 'The
fine flavour of flattery is delicious,' he was wont to aver, 'but like
all else in life, to practise it requires an expert or a genius. Open
compliments on any subject are like sausages, to be appreciated by
peasants and our greasy friends the burghers, but for us--we cannot
digest them!' So he looked away from Stafforth, giving his attention to
the Graevenitz couple. 'Madame de Graevenitz,' he said, 'I observed you at
Mass in the Cathedral of Rottenburg a few days since. God forgives the
inattention at Mass of an old man when he sleeps; of a young man when he
loves; and the wandering attention of an _old_ man blessed with a _young_
heart the Almighty will surely pardon, for He Himself must admire beauty,
since He made it.' Madame de Graevenitz looked perturbed. She was a good
and conscientious Catholic, and this light way of speaking of things
sacred seemed alarmingly daring to her; also, being rather stupid, it
bewildered her, and she had no answer for the old courtier.

'Ah, Monsieur de Graevenitz,' continued Zollern, 'what news from
Mecklemburg? Does not your heart smite you when you think of the country
which gave you birth?'

'Monseigneur, it was the only gift Mecklemburg ever gave me, and indeed,
to-night I am hardly grateful for the gift. What is the use of life when
it is so fierce a struggle not to die of hunger?' he said, and drained
his glass of punch. 'I have such simple tastes.--Madame de Ruth, may I
drink another glass of your excellent punch?--I have such simple tastes,
and even these I cannot satisfy!'

The Duke of Zollern watched him, and his fine smile was more of a
commentary than many a spoken word. Graevenitz observing it broke into a
laugh, which was echoed by the company.

'Monseigneur,' said Madame de Ruth, 'we have been sitting here in the
dark for two ho