old friends," said the duke, gayly.

Fortunately, then a diversion was made. The heavy, purple satin curtains
vailing the arch between the drawing-rooms and dining saloon were drawn
aside by invisible hands, and a very dignified and officer-looking
personage, in a powdered wig, clerical black suit, and gold chain,
appeared, and with a low bow and with low tones, said:

"My lord and lady are served."

"Count, will you take the duchess in to dinner?--Duke, Lady C. will thank
you for your arm," said the host, as, with a nod and a smile, he moved
off in search of that particular ambassadress whom custom, or etiquette,
or policy, required him to escort to the dining-room.

The Duke of Hereward with a polite wave of the hand, left his duchess in
the charge of her appointed attendant, and went to meet Lady C., who was
advancing toward him.

Count Volaski bowed, and silently offered his arm to the young duchess.

She did not take it; she could not; she stood as one paralyzed.

He was stronger, firmer, calmer; perhaps because he really felt less than
she did. He took her hand and drew it within his own, and led her to her
place in the little procession that was going to the dining-room.

He placed her in her chair at the table, and took his seat at her side.

Then the self-control of their order, the self-control instilled as a
virtue by their education, and standing now in the place of all virtues,
enabled them to maintain a superficial calmness that conducted them
safely through the trying ordeal of this dinner-table.

Count de Volaski entered freely into the conversation of the guests. The
Duchess of Hereward spoke but little; hers was a passive self-control,
not an active one; she could force herself to be, or seem, composed;
she could not force herself to talk; but her deep mourning dress was a
good excuse for her extreme quietness, which was naturally ascribed to
her recent and double bereavement.

The dinner was a long, long agony to her; the courses seemed almost
endless in duration and numberless in succession; but at length the
hostess arose and gave the signal for the ladies to retire and leave
the gentlemen to their wine and politics.

The gentlemen all stood up while the ladies passed out to the
drawing-room.

Valerie would willingly have gone off to hide herself in some bay-window
or other nook or corner of the vast drawing-room, and taken up a book or
a piece of music as an excuse for her reserve; b