he succeeded. She selected the Dowager Lady Randolph for her butt, and
made fun of her so completely that her Grace almost exceeded the bounds
of decorum in her laughter.

"You must not, really; you must not--she is a great friend of mine," the
Duchess said. But perhaps there was not much love between the two
ladies. And thus by degrees the conversation was brought round to the
Populina palace and the gay scenes so long ago.

"You must have heard of our ruin," the Contessa said, looking full into
the Duchess's face; "everybody has heard of that. I have been too poor
to live in my own house. We have wandered everywhere, Bice and I. When
one is proud it is more easy to be poor away from home. But we are in
very high spirits to-day, the child and I," she added. "All can be put
right again. My little niece has come into a fortune. She has made an
inheritance. We received the news to-night only. That is how I have
recovered my spirits--and to see you, Duchess, and renew the beautiful
old times."

"Oh, indeed!" the Duchess said, which was not much; but then she was a
woman of few words.

"Yes, we came to London very poor," said the Contessa. "What could I do?
It was the moment to produce the little one. We have no Court. Could I
seek for her the favour of the Piedmontese? Oh no! that was impossible.
I said to myself she shall come to that generous England, and my old
friends there will not refuse to take my Bice by the hand."

"Oh no; I am sure not," said the Duchess.

As for Bice she had long ere now set off with Montjoie, who had hung
round her from the moment of her entrance into the room, and whose
admiration had grown to such a height by the cumulative force of
everybody else's admiration swelling into it, that he could scarcely
keep within those bounds of compliment which are permitted to an adorer
who has not yet acquired the right to be hyperbolical.

"Oh yes, it's pretty enough: but you don't see half how pretty it is,
for you can't see yourself, don't you know?" said this not altogether
maladroit young practitioner. Bice gave him a smile like one of the
Contessa's smiles, which said everything that was needful without giving
her any trouble. But now that the effect of her entrance was attained,
and all that dramatic business done with, the girl's soul was set upon
enjoyment. She loved dancing as she loved every other form of rapid
movement. The only drawback was that there was so little room. "Why do
they ma