ays before the hunt. Nina was serving at one of the tables
of a charity tea, when she saw a very highly-colored, plump figure, with
draperies in full sail, bearing down upon her from the top of the wide
steps, at the back of the big red hall. The red of the hall paled beside
the cerise costume of the approaching lady. In a voice loud and
high-keyed, yet not unmusical, she cried:

"Well, I declare if it isn't little Nina Randolph!" And then with
exuberant good humor she called to her husband, who followed lamb-like
in her wake, "You see, Gio, it _is_ the little Randolph--I told you so!

"This is my husband." She presented him as though he were some inanimate
personal possession. "We have been in Paris and Monte Carlo all winter.
Got back yesterday. Nice old place, Rome, don't you think so? I dote on
it, but of course it gets provincial if you stay too long!" At the same
moment she caught sight of Zoya Olisco, and waved to her. To Nina's
surprise, the young Russian came forward with both hands outstretched.
"Ah, you are back? What was the news in Monte Carlo?"

"Nothing much. They still talk of the _coup_ that Tornik----" But before
Nina could hear the end of the sentence, the old Princess Malio handed
her a five-_lire_ note for tea, and Nina had to get change. Then the
whole family of the Rosenbaums, eight in number, demanded her services
for many cups of tea and as many plates of sandwiches and cakes, and
when their change was counted, the Countess Kate and her attendant
husband were leaving. The countess, however, called back over her
shoulder, "You are dining with me on Friday; the princess said yes for
you!"

And so it was that on the evening of the hunt Nina, alone with her
uncle--her aunt having stayed at home on account of a headache--found
herself entering a big new apartment house, and going up in an elevator,
quite as though she were at home in one of the most modern, instead of
one of the most ancient, cities in the world.

The Masco apartment was all brand-new--so new that there was still about
it an odor of fresh paint and plaster, and the pungency of raw textiles.
The Countess Kate, not to be outdone by her decorator, was as new as her
surroundings--in the latest style of sheath dress, of a brilliant blue,
which she wore triumphantly, regardless of the strain with which it
stretched across the amplitude of her bosom.

The company consisted of the Oliscos, Count Tornik, Prince Minotti,
Count Rosso, Pri