le
countenance betrayed that she knew herself to be charming, that she
was aware that she was the centre, at all times, of admiration, and
that such knowledge pleased her well. And why not? A woman must be
very silly not to be aware that beauty is a gift and a power.

But what was the reason of her cold looks at the mention of her
grandfather's name? Just what one might expect from a woman with her
face. All the world--that is, her world--knew that she and her
grandfather, Prince Theobald of Bondavara, were at daggers drawn. The
wily old politician had given his only and beautiful granddaughter to
a German, Prince Sondersheim. She was to consolidate some political
matter, only she didn't see it in that light, and refused to ratify
the bargain, not caring for Sondersheim; and, for the matter of that,
neither did he care for her. But, then, it didn't mean so much to him.
Angela had her ideal of married life, however, and so she quarrelled
with her grandfather because he pooh-poohed her ideals and called them
romantic folly. Upon this she vowed she would never speak to him
again, and he, being angry, told her to leave his house, which she did
at once, and came to her Aunt Theudelinde, who had just set up at
Pesth, and was glad to have so bright and beautiful a niece. Since
then she had refused all communication with her grandfather. This was
the reason that she would not even hear his name mentioned; and it
never was, except by ignorant outsiders, or "know-nothings," as the
Yankees call them.

The Abbe Samuel had wit enough to see that the _Soirees Amalgamantes_
were not the success they should be. Conversation did not suffice;
amalgamation was at a standstill. The young girls sat in one room, the
married women in another; the men herded together, looking glum, but
not so bored as the women. Then the abbe, considering what ought to be
done, had a happy idea. He introduced dramatic representations,
dramatic readings, concerts, which were a decided success. Soon
conversation became lively, strangers got to know one another; when
they rehearsed together duets and little pieces their stiffness wore
off. The women seemed different in morning dress, free from the
restraints of the grand toilette; they grew quite friendly, and later
on they found a subject upon which they discoursed quite at their
ease. It must be confessed, however, that after midnight, when the
readings, the concert, or the representation was over, and the
o