p her work.
Her chin trembled a little. "We won't speak of this again, please,"
she said. "I never shall be a bride or a wife or mother. I will have
a quiet, independent life--like yours."

The sunshine fell on the girl's grave, uplifted face, on the white
walls, the blue stove, and the calm, watching Madonnas. Clara, as Mrs.
Waldeaux had done, thought of a nun in her cell to whom love could only
be a sacred dream.

She smiled back at Lucy, bade her goodnight, and closed the door.

"Like mine?" she said, as she went down the corridor. "Well, it is a
comfortable, quiet life. But empty----" And she laid her hand suddenly
across her thin breast.

Jean listened in silence when Clara told her briefly that Lucy was not
going.

"She is very shrewd," she said presently. "She means to treat them de
haut en bas from the outset. It is capital policy."

Jean, when she entered the countess's salon, with downcast eyes, draped
in filmy lace without a jewel or flower, was shy innocence in person.
Furst Hugo stood near the hostess, with two stout women in shabby gowns
and magnificent jewels.

"The frocks they made themselves, and the emeralds are heirlooms," Jean
muttered to Clara, without lifting her timid eyes.

"Miss Dunbar is not coming?" exclaimed the prince.

"No," said Miss Vance.

"The Fraulein is ill?" demanded one of his sisters.

"No," Clara said, again smiling. "WE expected to meet her," the
younger princess said. "It is most singular----"

"She has sent her apology to the countess," said Clara gently, and
passed on.

But her little triumph was short lived.

A famous professional soprano appeared in a white-ribboned enclosure at
the end of the salon, and the guests were rapidly arranged according to
their rank to listen. Clara and Jean stood until every man and woman
were comfortably seated, when they were placed in the back row.

When the music was over supper was announced, and the same ceremony was
observed. The Highnessess, the hochwohlgeboren privy councillors, the
hochgeboren secretaries, even the untitled Herren who held some petty
office, were ushered with profound deference to their seats at the long
table, while Clara stood waiting. Jean's eyes still drooped meekly,
but even her lips were pale.

"How can you look so placid?" she whispered. "It is a deliberate
insult to your gray hairs."

"No. It is the custom of the country. It does not hurt me."

They were led at the moment