"I have a vague recollection of hearing some one speak of a count having trouble with his young American wife, divorce, or something of the sort. A very prominent New York girl, if I'm not mistaken. All very hazy, however. What is his name?" "John," said Mrs. Hazzard firmly, "you must not ask us to tell you. Won't you please understand?" "The poor fellow is almost distracted. Really, Mr. Smart, we planned this little visit here simply in order to--to take him out of himself for a while. It has been such a tragedy for him. He worshipped the child." It was Mrs. Billy who spoke. "And the mother made way with him?" I queried, resorting to a suddenly acquired cunning. "It is a girl," said Elsie in a loud whisper. "The _loveliest_ girl. The mother appeared in Vienna about three weeks or a month ago and--whiff! Off goes the child. Abducted--kidnapped! And the court had granted him the custody of the child. That's what makes it so terrible. If she is caught anywhere in Europe--well, I don't know what may happen to her. It is just such silly acts as this that make American girls the laughing stocks of the whole world. I give you my word I am almost ashamed to have people point me out and say: 'There goes an American. Pooh!'" By this time I had myself pretty well in hand. "I daresay the mother loved the child, which ought to condone one among her multitude of sins. I take it, of course, that she was entirely to blame for everything that happened." They at once proceeded to tear the poor little mother to shreds, delicately and with finesse, to be sure, but none the less completely. No doubt they meant to be charitable. "This is what a silly American nobody gets for trying to be somebody over here just because her father has a trunkful of millions," said Elsie, concluding a rather peevish estimate of the conjugal effrontery laid at the door of Mr. Pless's late wife. "Or just because one of these spendthrift foreigners has a title for sale," said Billy Smith sarcastically. "He was deeply in love with her when they were married," said his wife. "I don't believe it was his fault that they didn't get along well together." "The truth of the matter is," said Elsie with finality, "she couldn't live up to her estate. She was a drag, a stone about his neck. It was like putting one's waitress at the head of the table and expecting her to make good as a hostess." "What was her social standing in New York?" I enquired. "Oh, good enough," said Betty Billy. "She was in the smartest set, if that is a recommendation." "Then you admit, both of you, that the best of our American girls fall short of being all that is required over here. In other words, they can't hold a candle to the Europeans." "Not at all," they both said in a flash. "That's the way it sounds to me." Elsie seemed repentant. "I suppose we are a little hard on the poor thing. She was very young, you see."