xchanges presents with the duchess, and at this time she
had brought with her from the Continent some rare old tapestries with
which to adorn a new morning-room at Cimicifugas House. These tapestries
were to be hung during the absence of the duchess in Homburg, and were
to greet her as a birthday surprise on her return. Hilda Mellifica,
who is one of the most talented amateur artists in London, and who has
exquisite taste in all matters of decoration, was to go down to the
ducal residence to inspect the work, and she obtained permission from
Lady Veratrum (the confidential companion of the duchess) to bring me
with her. I started on this journey to the country with all possible
delight, little surmising the agonies that lay in store for me in the
mercifully hidden future.

The tapestries were perfect, and Lady Veratrum was most amiable and
affable, though the blue blood of the Belladonnas courses in her veins,
and her great-grandfather was the celebrated Earl of Rhus Tox, who
rendered such notable service to his sovereign. We roamed through the
splendid apartments, inspected the superb picture-gallery, where scores
of dead-and-gone Cimicifugases (most of them very plain) were glorified
by the art of Van Dyck, Sir Joshua, or Gainsborough, and admired the
priceless collections of marbles and cameos and bronzes. It was about
four o'clock when we were conducted to a magnificent apartment for a
brief rest, as we were to return to London at half-past six. As Lady
Veratrum left us, she remarked casually, 'His Grace will join us at
tea.'

The door closed, and at the same moment I fell upon the brocaded satin
state bed and tore off my hat and gloves like one distraught.

"Hilda," I gasped, "you brought me here, and you must rescue me, for I
absolutely decline to drink tea with a duke."

"Nonsense, Penelope, don't be absurd," she replied. "I have never
happened to see him myself, and I am a trifle nervous, but it cannot be
very terrible, I should think."

"Not to you, perhaps, but to me impossible," I said. "I thought he was
in Homburg, or I would never have entered this place. It is not that I
fear nobility. I could meet Her Majesty the Queen at the Court of St.
James without the slightest flutter of embarrassment, because I know
I could trust her not to presume on my defencelessness to enter into
conversation with me. But this duke, whose dukedom very likely dates
back to the hour of the Norman Conquest, is a very differen