, and it bewildered me dreadfully at first. Don
Stirling, whom I used to know at Washington (a conceited young fellow he
was then--I hope he has improved since), wrote to say that he had met a
girl at the Duchess of Chiselhurst's ball who had a letter inviting the
Princess von Steinheimer to the festivity. He thought at first she was
the Princess (which is very complimentary to each of us), but found
later that she wasn't. Now he wants to know, you know, and thinks, quite
reasonably, that I must have some inkling who that girl was, and he begs
me, by our old friendship, etc., etc., etc. He is a nice young man, if a
trifle confident (these young diplomatists think they hold the reins of
the universe in their hands), and I should like to oblige him, but I
thought first I would hear what you had to say about it. I am to address
him care of the Embassy at St. Petersburg; so I suppose he's stationed
there now. By the way, how did he get your glove, or is that merely brag
on his part? He says that it is the only clue he has, and he is going to
trace you from that, it seems, if I do not tell him who you are and
send him your address. Now, what am _I_ to say when I write to St.
Petersburg?"

In reply to this, Jennie sent a somewhat incoherent letter, very
different from her usual style of writing. She had not mentioned the
young man in her former communication, she said, because she had been
trying to forget the incident in which he was the central figure. In no
circumstances could she meet him again, and she implored the Princess
not to disclose her identity to him even by a hint. She explained the
glove episode exactly as it happened; she was compelled to sacrifice
the glove to release her hand. He had been very kind in helping her to
escape from a false position, but it would be too humiliating for her
ever to see him or speak with him again.

When this letter reached the Schloss at Meran, the Princess telegraphed
to London, "Send me the other glove," and Jennie sent it. A few days
later came a further communication from the Princess.

"I have puzzled our young man quite effectually, I think, clever as
he imagines himself to be. I wrote him a semi-indignant letter to St.
Petersburg, and said I thought all along he had not really recognized
me at the ball, in spite of his protestations at first. Then I saw how
easily he was deluded into the belief that I was some other woman, and
so the temptation to cozen him further was i