common enmity his sensitive mind apprehended,
they'd surely commit no overt act of hostility. Like all their kind,
they were adepts in the art of "freezing out." He had no doubt they
had come here from mere curiosity and that he would shortly hear they
had ceased to entertain or receive her. But he wished the dinner were
over.

He was soon enlightened.

Marian Lawrence leaned across the table. "Oh, Madame Zattiany! Will
you settle a dispute? Harry and I have been arguing about Disraeli.
Your husband was an ambassador, wasn't he? Did you happen to be at the
Berlin What-d'you-call-it?"

"Oh, no," replied Madame Zattiany, with open amusement. "I was still
Mary Ogden in eighteen-seventy-eight."

"Oh! The seventies and eighties are all one to me, I'm afraid. I'm
shockingly ignorant. But we've all been saying that you ought to write
your memoirs. Thirty-four years of diplomatic life in Europe! You
must have met every one worth knowing and it would be such a delightful
way for us youngsters to learn history."

"Oh, I kept a diary," said Madame Zattiany lightly. "I may publish it
some day." And she turned pointedly to the man on her right. Why had
she invited the little cat?

"Oh, but Madame Zattiany!" exclaimed young Mrs. Ruyler, whose black
eyes were sparkling. "Please don't wait. I'm so interested in German
history since the war. You must have known four generations of
Hohenzollerns . . . too thrilling! And Bismarck. And the Empress
Elizabeth. And Crown Prince Rudolf--do tell us the truth of that
mysterious tragedy. Did you ever see Marie Vetsera? I never heard of
it until the other day when some of mother's friends raked it up, and
I've been excited ever since."

"Unfortunately my husband was an attache in Paris at the time, and I
never saw her. I am afraid your curiosity will never be satisfied.
There was a general impression that if Vienna ever became the capital
of a Republic the archives would be opened and the truth of the
Meyerling tragedy given to the world. But all documents relating to
private scandals must have been destroyed." She spoke with the utmost
suavity, the patient hostess with rather tiresome guests. "People in
Vienna, I assure you, take very little interest in that old scandal.
They are too busy and too uncomfortable making history of their own."

"Yes, it must be a hideously uncomfortable place to live in." Mrs.
Leonard, another daughter-in-law of one of Mary's o