ey call me the Queen of Blondes."

"That is a very pretty title," said Leone, "they call me a queen, the
Queen of Song."

And the two women who were, each in her way, a "queen," smiled at each
other.

"You see," continued Lady Chandos, "that my husband used to think there
was nothing in the world but blondes. I have often told him if I bring a
brunette here she is quite at a disadvantage; everything is blue, white,
or silver."

Leone looked round the sumptuous room; the ceiling was painted by a
master hand; all the story of Endymion was told there; the walls were
superbly painted; the hangings were of blue velvet and blue silk,
relieved by white lace; the carpet, of rich velvet pile, had a white
ground with blue corn-flowers, so artistically grouped they looked as
though they had fallen on the ground in picturesque confusion. The
chairs and pretty couch were covered with velvet; a hundred little
trifles that lay scattered over the place told that it was occupied by a
lady of taste; books in beautiful bindings, exquisite drawings and
photographs, a jeweled fan, a superb bouquet holder, flowers costly,
beautiful, and fragrant; a room that was a fitting shrine for a goddess
of beauty.

"My own room," said Lady Chandos, with a smile, as she closed the door;
"and what a luxury it is, Madame Vanira--a room quite your own! Even
when the house is full of visitors no one comes here but Lord Chandos;
he always takes that chair near those flowers while he talks to me, and
that is, I think, the happiest hour in the day. Sit down there
yourself."

Leone took the chair, and Lady Chandos sat down on a footstool by her
side. It was one of the most brilliant and picturesque pictures ever
beheld; the gorgeous room, with its rich hangings, the beautiful,
dark-eyed woman, with the Spanish face, her dress like softened
sunbeams, the fire of her rubies like points of flame, her whole self
lovely as a picture, and the fair Queen of Blondes, with the golden hair
and white roses--a picture that would have made an artist's fortune.

"How pleasant this is," said Lady Chandos, "a few minutes' respite from
the music and dancing! Do you love the quiet moments of your life,
Madame Vanira?"

Leone looked down on the fair, lovely face with a deep sigh.

"No, I think not," she replied; "I like my stage life best."

Lady Chandos asked, in a half pitying tone:

"Why did you go on the stage? Did you always like it?"

And Leone answered, gra