ever lived a woman more respected there, more loved.
She disarmed even the women, old and young--yes, even the single
ones!"

"It is an odd world," she said slowly. "But"--drawing back--"I do
not think I will go back to Europe. It would delight me to meet
again my friend, the patriot Kossuth. But here I have many ideas
which I must work out."

"My dear Countess, you oppress me with a sense of failure! I had
so much hoped that you would lend your aid in this mission of my
own abroad. You would be valuable. You are so much prized in the
opinions of the administration, I am sure, that--"

"What do you mean? Does the administration know of me? _Why_
should it know? What have I done?"

But the old statesman before her was no such fool as to waste time
in a lost cause. This one was lost, he knew, and it booted little
for him to become involved where, even at the best issue, there was
risk enough for him. He reflected that risk must have existed even
had this young lady been a shade more dull of mind, of less
brilliant faculty in leaping to conclusions and resolutions. She
_was_ a firebrand, that was sure. Let others handle such, but not
that task for him!

"Now you ask questions whose answers lie entirely beyond my power,"
he replied easily. "You must remember that I am not of this party,
let alone this administration. My own day in politics has past,
and I must seek seclusion, modestly. I own that the mission to
Europe, to examine in a wholly non-partisan way, the working out
there of this revolutionary idea--the testing on the soil of
monarchies of the principle of democratic government--has a great
appeal to me; and I fancied it would offer appeal also to yourself.
But if--"

"All life is chance, is it not? But in your belief, does the right
man always win?"

He rose, smiling, inscrutable once more, astute and suave
politician again, and passing about the table he bowed over her
hand to kiss it.

"My dear Countess," he said, "my dear girl, all I can say is that
in the very limited experience I can claim in such matters, the
victor usually is the right man. But I find you here, alone,
intent on visionary plans which never can be carried out,
undertaking a labor naturally foreign to a woman's methods of life,
alien to her usual ideas of happiness. So, my dear, my dear, I
fear you yourself have not played out the game--you have not
fulfilled its issue! The stakes are not yet given over! I can