sister, and the remainder of the party followed the two
couples without any formality.

Edwin was seated at table next to the chevalier, who eat and drank with
the appetite of a ship-wrecked mariner, and at intervals carried on a
monosyllabic conversation in French with the young count, taking not
the slightest notice of his other neighbor. The place on Edwin's left
was apparently reserved for the chaplain of the princely household. Our
friend was therefore entirely alone and heartily glad to be so. He saw
behind the large silver epergne, filled with a superb bouquet of red
and yellow roses, Toinette's beautiful face, mysterious dark eyes, and
snowy neck, over which clustered her soft brown curls; her stately, yet
pliant figure leaned quietly back in her chair, as she allowed dish
after dish to pass untouched. Beside her sat the fair-haired princess,
who talked continually in her sprightly fashion, laughed, ate and drank
in the most coquettish manner, and more and more resembled a waiting
maid who has put on fine clothes and is skillfully imitating the
manners of a great lady.

She was eagerly endeavoring to persuade the count and countess, that
they could do nothing wiser than to make up their minds to accompany
her to Italy, and described so drolly the pleasures of a journey with
hundreds of adventures, attacks by _banditti_, miserable inns in which
there would be no accommodations for so large a company, and finally a
solemn audience with the Holy Father, in which she would assert that
among Protestants, kissing the slipper[9] was the husband's business,
that even Toinette joined in the laugh she excited, though she remained
firm in her refusal. Traveling did not agree with her nerves, she said
quietly. Her husband had eagerly agreed with the princess and spoken
more enthusiastically than was his habit, of former journeys through
the countries of the South. When he heard his wife decline so
positively a deep shadow darkened his brow; he turned suddenly pale,
twisted his moustache, and became perfectly silent.

"You ought not to give your final answer yet, Countess," said the
Russian guest, as he passed the fat fingers of his well kept hand
through his long beard. A certain nervous twitching of the brow was
perceptible as he spoke, while his little eyes completely disappeared
in the broad face, and the huge bald head bore an unpleasant
resemblance to a skull. "Princess Sascha has shown you the romantic
side of the