was safe, and so, the first chance I had
at a party in Newport, I made a dead set at a new beauty just arrived
from the South--I forget where. The other--the one with whom I was
betting--was there, and I watched her. She lost her temper completely,
and turned all sorts of colours. Then I knew I had won, and so I went
back to her and talked to her for the rest of the evening, explaining
that the other young lady was a sister of a very dear friend of mine.

[Footnote 2: American for the _cotillon_.]

"The next day I called on my beauty, and throwing myself at her feet, I
declared myself vanquished. The result was just as I expected. She burst
into tears and put her arms round my neck, and said it was she who
lost, for she really loved me though she had been too proud to
acknowledge it. Then I calmly rose and laughed. 'I do not care for you
in the least,' I said; 'I only said so to make you speak. I have won the
gloves.' She broke down completely, and went abroad a few days
afterwards. And so I avenged my friend."

There was a pause when Barker had finished his tale. He sipped his tea,
and Margaret rose slowly and went to the window.

"Don't you think that is a very good story, Countess?" he asked. "Don't
you think I was quite right?" Still no answer. Margaret rang the bell,
and old Vladimir appeared.

"Mr. Barker's carriage," said she; then, recollecting herself, she
repeated the order in Russian, and swept out of the room without
deigning to look at the astonished young man, standing on the hearthrug
with his tea-cup in his hand. How it is that Vladimir succeeds in
interpreting his mistress's orders to the domestics of the various
countries in which she travels is a mystery not fathomed, for in her
presence he understands only the Slav tongue. But however that may be, a
minute had not elapsed before Mr. Barker was informed by another servant
that his carriage was at the door. He turned pale as he descended the
steps.

You have carried it too far, Mr. Barker. That is not the kind of story
that a lady of Countess Margaret's temper will listen to; for when you
did the thing you have told her--if indeed you ever did it, which is
doubtful--you did a very base and unmanly thing. It may not be very nice
to act as that young lady did to your friend; but then, just think how
very much worse it would have been if she had married him from a sense
of duty, and made him feel it afterwards. Worse? Ay, worse than a
hundred death