one, Bauer?" said Beecher.

"Reasonably so, your Excellency. We had the King of Wurtemberg, the
Queen of Greece, a couple of archdukes, and a crown prince of
something far north,--second rate ones all, but good people, and easily
satisfied."

Beecher gave a significant glance towards Lizzy, and went on: "And who
were your English visitors?"

"The old set, your Excellency: the Duke of Middleton, Lord Headlam and
his four daughters, Sir Hipsley Keyling, to break the bank, as usual--"

"And did he?"

"No, Excellency; it broke _him_."

"Poor devil! it ain't so easy to get to windward of those fellows,
Bauer; they are too many for us, eh?" said Beecher, chuckling with the
consciousness that _he_ had the key to that mysterious secret.

"Well, Excellency, there's nobody ever does it but one, so long as I
have known Baden."

"And who is he, pray?"

"Mr. Twining,--Adderley Twining, sir; that's the man can just win what
and when and how he pleases."

"Don't tell _me_ that, Bauer; _he_ has n't got the secret. If Twining
wins, it 's chance,--mere chance, just as you might win."

"It may be so, your Excellency."

"I tell you, Bauer,--I know it as a _fact_,--there's just one man in
Europe has the martingale, and here's to his health."

Mr. Bauer was too well skilled in his calling not to guess in whose
honor the glass was drained, and smiled a gracious recognition of the
toast.

"And your pretty people, Herr Bauer," broke in Lizzy,--"who were your
great beauties this season?"

"We had nothing remarkable, Madame," said he, bowing.

"No, Master Bauer," broke in Beecher; "for the luck and the good looks I
suspect you should have gone somewhere else this summer."

Bauer bowed his very deepest acknowledgment. Too conscious of what
became him in his station to hazard a flattery in words, he was yet
courtier enough to convey his admiration by a look of most meaning
deference.

"I conclude that the season is nigh over," said Lizzy, half languidly,
as she looked out on the moonlit promenade, where a few loungers were
lingering.

"Yes, Madame; another week will close the rooms. All are hastening away
to their winter quarters,--Rome, Paris, or Vienna."

"How strange it is, all this life of change!" said Lizzy, thoughtfully.

"It is not what it seems," said Beecher; "for the same people are always
meeting again and again, now in Italy, now in England. Ah! I see the
Cursaal is being lighted up. How jolly it looks throu