o Maurice and laughed.

"Eh!" said the Marshal.

"I prophesied that you would speak disparagingly of the dog."

"What a reputation!" cried the old soldier. "I dare say that you have
been telling Monsieur Carewe that I am a wit. Monsieur, never attempt
to be witty; they will put you down for a wit, and laugh at anything you
say, even when you put yourself out to speak the truth. If I possess any
wit it is like young grapes--sour. You are connected in Vienna?"

"With the American Legation."

"Happy is the country," said the Marshal, "which is so far away that
Europe can find no excuse to meddle with it."

"And even then Europe would not dare," Maurice replied, with
impertinence aforethought.

"That is not a diplomatic speech."

"It is true."

"I like your frankness."

"Let that go toward making amends for saving the dog."

"Are all American diplomats so frank?" inquired the Marshal, with an air
of feigned wonder.

"Indeed, no," answered Maurice. "Just at present I am not in a
diplomatic capacity; I need not look askance at truth. And there is no
reason why we should not always be truthful."

"You are wrong. It's truth's infrequency which makes her so charming and
refreshing. However, I thank you for your services to her Highness; your
services to her dog I shall try to forget." And with this the Marshal
moved away, shaking his head as if he had inadvertently stumbled on an
intricate problem.

Not long after, Maurice was left to his own devices. He viewed the
scene, silent and curious. Conversation was carried on in low tones,
and laughter was infrequent and subdued. The women dressed without
ostentation. There were no fair arms and necks. Indeed, these belong
wholly to youth, and youth was not a factor at the archbishop's
receptions. Most of the men were old and bald, and only the wives of the
French and British ministers were pretty or young. How different from
Vienna, where youth and beauty abound! There were no music, no long
tables of refreshments, no sparkling wines, no smoking-room, good
stories and better fellowship. There was an absence of the flash of
jewels and color which make court life attractive.

There seemed to be hanging in the air some invisible power, the forecast
of a tragedy, the beginning of an unknown end. And yet the prelate
smiled on enemies and friends alike. As Maurice observed that smile he
grew perplexed. It was a smile such as he had seen on the faces of men
who, about to