lf to an admiring public in her present condition.

'Madame is now a heroine,' continued Alphonsine, behind her. 'Madame
can ask anything she pleases. Several milliardaires will now offer to
marry Madame.'

'Alphonsine,' answered Margaret, 'you have no sense.'

The maid smiled, knowing that her mistress could not see even the
reflection of the smile in the glass; but she said nothing.

'No sense,' Margaret repeated, with conviction. 'None at all'

The maid allowed a few seconds to pass before she spoke again.

'Or if Madame would accept to sing in one or two private houses in New
York, we could ask a very great price, more than the manager would
give.'

'I daresay.'

'It is certain,' said Alphonsine. 'At the French ball to which Madame
kindly allowed me to go, the valet of Mr. Van Torp approached me.'

'Indeed!' exclaimed Cordova absently. 'How very disagreeable!'

'I see that Madame is not listening,' said Alphonsine, taking offence.

What she said was so true that Margaret did not answer at all.
Besides, the buttering process was finished, and it was time for the
hot water. She went to the ugly stationary washstand and bent over it,
while the maid kept her hair from her face. Alphonsine spoke again
when she was sure that her mistress could not possibly answer her.

'Mr. Van Torp's valet asked me whether I thought Madame would be
willing to sing in church, at the wedding, the day after to-morrow,'
she said, holding the Primadonna's back hair firmly.

The head moved energetically under her hands. Margaret would certainly
not sing at Mr. Van Torp's wedding, and she even tried to say so, but
her voice only bubbled and sputtered ineffectually through the soap
and water.

'I was sure Madame would not,' continued the maid, 'though Mr. Van
Torp's valet said that money was no object. He had heard Mr. Van Torp
say that he would give five thousand dollars to have Madame sing at
his wedding.'

Margaret did not shake her head this time, nor try to speak, but
Alphonsine heard the little impatient tap of her slipper on the wooden
floor. It was not often that the Primadonna showed so much annoyance
at anything; and of late, when she did, the cause had been connected
with this same Mr. Van Torp. The mere mention of his name irritated
her, and Alphonsine seemed to know it, and to take an inexplicable
pleasure in talking about him--about Mr. Rufus Van Torp, formerly of
Chicago, but now of New York. He was looked upon a