monds."

"You are wicked, sweet one," replied the countess, smiling. "One must
acknowledge that her toilet is charming. I have never seen its equal.
The gold lace over the rose-colored satin is superb."

"Yes, and the mingling of straw feathers, diamonds, flowers, lace, and
birds is truly ridiculous in her head-dress."

"It must have been copied exactly from the one which the Queen Marie
Antoinette wore at the ball at Versailles a fortnight since. The
baroness was present at this court ball with her greyhound of a husband,
and created quite a sensation with her costly recherchee toilet, as the
French ambassador told us yesterday."

"Certainly not by her manner," said Frau von Morien. "She is
insupportably arrogant and self-sufficient. What do you think of this
pretentious manner of announcing our names as if we were at an auction
where they sold titles?"

"It is a very good French custom," remarked the countess. "But it
does not become a lady of doubtful nobility and uncertain position, to
introduce foreign customs here. She should leave this to others, and
modestly accept those already in use by us."

"One remarks the puffed-up parvenue," whispered Frau von Morien. "Every
thing smells of the varnish upon the newly-painted coat-of-arms."

"Hush, my friend! I there comes the baroness leaning upon the arm of the
French ambassador. She is indeed imposing in appearance, and one could
mistake her for a queen."

"Could any one ever suppose that this queen once made flowers to sell?
Come, countess, I have just thought of a charming scene to revenge
myself upon this arrogant personage."

Giving her arm to the countess, she approached her hostess leaning upon
the arm of the Marquis de Treves, the French ambassador, as they were
standing beneath the immense chandelier of rock crystal, which sparkled
above them like a crown of stars, causing her diamonds to look as if in
one blaze of different hues.

"Oh, permit us to sun ourselves in your rays, ma toute belle," said the
Countess Moltke. "One could well fancy themselves in a fairy palace, so
enchanting is everything here."

"And the baroness's appearance confirms this impression," remarked the
gallant Frenchman. "Fancy could not well paint a more lovely fairy in
one's happiest dreams."

"Yes, truly I wander around as if in an enchanted scene. I feel as if
I must seize myself by the head and be well shaken, to convince myself
that I am really awake and not dreaming a