ng Miss Ethel say, if she heard of the dispute?"

"Indeed there is no reason why she should hear of it," said Lord Kew,
"unless some obliging friend should communicate it to her."

"Communicate it to her--the poor dear! who would be so cruel as to
give her pain?" asked the innocent Duchesse. "Why do you look at me so,
Frank?"

"Because I admire you," said her interlocutor, with a bow. "I have never
seen Madame la Duchesse to such advantage as to-day."

"You speak in enigmas! Come back with me to the ballroom. Come and dance
with me once more. You used to dance with me. Let us have one waltz
more, Kew. And then, and then, in a day or two I shall go back to
Monsieur le Duc, and tell him that his filleul is going to marry the
fairest of all Englishwomen and to turn hermit in the country, and
orator in the Chamber of Peers. You have wit! ah si--you have wit!" And
she led back Lord Kew, rather amazed himself at what he was doing, into
the ballroom; so that the good-natured people who were there, and who
beheld them dancing, could not refrain from clapping their hands at the
sight of this couple.

The Duchess danced as if she was bitten by that Neapolitan spider which,
according to the legend, is such a wonderful dance-incentor. She would
have the music quicker and quicker. She sank on Kew's arm, and clung on
his support. She poured out all the light of her languishing eyes
into his face. Their glances rather confused than charmed him. But
the bystanders were pleased; they thought it so good-hearted of
the Duchesse, after the little quarrel, to make a public avowal of
reconciliation!

Lord Rooster looking on, at the entrance of the dancing-room, over
Monsieur de Florac's shoulder, said, "It's all right! She's a clipper to
dance, the little Duchess."

"The viper!" said Florac, "how she writhes!"

"I suppose that business with the Frenchman is all over," says Lord
Rooster. "Confounded piece of nonsense."

"You believe it finished? We shall see!" said Florac, who perhaps knew
his fair cousin better. When the waltz was over, Kew led his partner to
a seat, and bowed to her; but though she made room for him at her side,
pointing to it, and gathering up her rustling robes so that he might sit
down, he moved away, his face full of gloom. He never wished to be near
her again. There was something more odious to him in her friendship than
her hatred. He knew hers was the hand that had dealt that stab at him
and Ethel in the m