xcept by devoting her whole time to it; and devote her whole time
to it she did, in good earnest. The years, in their passage, erased
certain lines from her face and restored the curves to her
figure--indeed, it came to be much more than a restoration!--but they
could not restore the colour to her hair nor the lightness to her heart.
She looked at mankind from a cynical altitude of worldly wisdom; her wit
grew keen and swift as d'Artagnan's rapier; her bon-mots had a way of
passing into proverbs, or of being stolen by more distinguished
contemporaries. She took her revenge upon society as completely as she
could, yet without bitterness. Indeed, it is probable that, could she
have ordered her life anew, she would not have ordered it differently.

Such, then, was the Dowager Duchess of Markheim, as she sat gazing
thoughtfully from her window, pondering the situation. She was fully
alive to the fact that American girls are always a menace to the peace
of noble families; besides, she was not at all satisfied with the
progress--or, rather, lack of progress--which the Prince had made in the
delicate negotiation entrusted to his hands. In a word, she decided
that, from every point of view, it were wise for her to be herself upon
the scene--and so much nearer her beloved Ostend! Therefore, being of
that superior order of woman who never has to make up her mind but once,
she forthwith gave orders for the departure.

It consequently happened, on the morning following the events narrated
in the previous chapter, that there was another distinguished arrival at
the Grand Hotel Royal, to the delight and despair of Monsieur Pelletan.

"I shall need an apartment of at least five rooms, not higher than the
second floor," announced the duchess.

"If Madame la Duchesse had only notified us of t'is honour!" protested
Pelletan, with upraised hands. "I swear t'at I haff not'ing--
not'ing--not one single apartment wort'y off madame--not efen one leetle
room up under t'e gutters."

"Nonsense!" she interrupted, vigorously. "I have heard all that a
hundred times at least. Which apartment has my nephew?"

"Madame's nephew?"

"Certainly, imbecile! Monsieur le Prince de Markeld."

"Oh," cried Pelletan. "Monsieur le Prince hass apartment B de luxe."

"And so has twice as much room as he needs, of course. Well, take my
luggage up there, wherever it is. At my age, one is beyond the reach of
scandal, even at a Dutch bathing-resort. Where is Mo