brella, that was all right as long as you didn't take it out in
the rain. It's not every one who could say that."

"Every one has said it; at least every one that I know. But then I
know very few people."

"I don't think you're particularly agreeable to-day."

"I never am. Haven't you noticed that women with a really perfect
profile like mine are seldom even moderately agreeable?"

"I don't think your profile is so perfect as all that," said the
Baroness.

"It would be surprising if it wasn't. My mother was one of the most
noted classical beauties of her day."

"These things sometimes skip a generation, you know," put in the
Baroness, with the breathless haste of one to whom repartee comes as
rarely as the finding of a gold-handled umbrella.

"My dear Sophie," said the Graefin sweetly, "that isn't in the least bit
clever; but you do try so hard that I suppose I oughtn't to discourage
you. Tell me something: has it ever occurred to you that Elsa would do
very well for Wratislav? It's time he married somebody, and why not
Elsa?"

"Elsa marry that dreadful boy!" gasped the Baroness.

"Beggars can't be choosers," observed the Graefin.

"Elsa isn't a beggar!"

"Not financially, or I shouldn't have suggested the match. But she's
getting on, you know, and has no pretensions to brains or looks or
anything of that sort."

"You seem to forget that she's my daughter."

"That shows my generosity. But, seriously, I don't see what there is
against Wratislav. He has no debts--at least, nothing worth speaking
about."

"But think of his reputation! If half the things they say about him
are true--"

"Probably three-quarters of them are. But what of it? You don't want
an archangel for a son-in-law."

"I don't want Wratislav. My poor Elsa would be miserable with him."

"A little misery wouldn't matter very much with her; it would go so
well with the way she does her hair, and if she couldn't get on with
Wratislav she could always go and do good among the poor."

The Baroness picked up a framed photograph from the table.

"He certainly is very handsome," she said doubtfully; adding even more
doubtfully, "I dare say dear Elsa might reform him."

The Graefin had the presence of mind to laugh in the right key.

* * * * *

Three weeks later the Graefin bore down upon the Baroness Sophie in a
foreign bookseller's shop in the Graben, where she was, possibly,
buying books of devot