men was to be seen at a
glance. The Dona Lucrezia was beautiful in a way, but lacked the
thoroughbred quality which comes in the highest types of womanhood.
Afflicted by nothing but a somewhat mercenary or personal grief, she
showed her lack of gameness in adversity. On the other hand, Helena von
Ritz, who had lived tragedy all her life, and now was in the climax of
such tragedy, was smiling and debonaire as though she had never been
anything but wholly content with life! She was robed now in some light
filmy green material, caught up here and there on the shoulders and
secured with silken knots. Her white neck showed, her arms were partly
bare with the short sleeves of the time. She stood, composed and easy,
a figure fit for any company or any court, and somewhat shaming our
little assembly, which never was a court at all, only a private meeting
in the office of a discredited and disowned leader in a republican
government. Her costume and her bearing were Helena von Ritz's answer to
a woman's fate! A deep color flamed in her cheeks. She stood with head
erect and lips smiling brilliantly. Her curtsey was grace itself. Our
dingy little office was glorified.

"I interrupt you, gentlemen," she began.

"On the contrary, I am sure, my dear lady," said Doctor Ward, "Senator
Calhoun told me he wished you to meet Senora Yturrio."

"Yes," resumed Calhoun, "I was just speaking with this lady over some
matters concerned with this Little slipper." He smiled as he held it up
gingerly between thumb and finger. "Do you recognize it, Madam
Baroness?"

"Ah, my little shoe!" she exclaimed. "But see, it has not been well
cared for."

"It traveled in my war bag from Oregon to Washington," said I. "Perhaps
bullet molds and powder flasks may have damaged it."

"It still would serve as a little post-office, perhaps," laughed the
baroness. "But I think its days are done on such errands."

"I will explain something of these errands to the Senora Yturrio," said
Calhoun. "I wish you personally to say to that lady, if you will, that
Senor Yturrio regarded this little receptacle rather as official than
personal post."

For one moment these two women looked at each other, with that on their
faces which would be hard to describe. At last the baroness spoke:

"It is not wholly my fault, Senora Yturrio, if your husband gave you
cause to think there was more than diplomacy between us. At least, I can
say to you that it was the sport of it alo