"No, no! I only wished to know if you knew him. Since you do not there is nothing more to be done about it." "But if he has insulted--" "Sh! That's not a nice word to hear in a conservatory," she warned. "But I do not understand." "It is not necessary. If you do not take me instantly to the ball-room you will lose the best part of the dance." She rose, and then I saw two little blue slippers peeping out from under the silken skirts. "You might have told me," I said reproachfully. "And now I do not believe any other Cinderella will do. Young man," said I, holding out the slipper for his inspection, "I was just paying this lady the very great compliment of thinking that this might be her shoe." "And it isn't," she returned. "Now, in honor to yourself, what is my name?" "You are Nancy Marsden." "And you?" "Your humble servant,"--bending. "I shall soon find out." "It is quite possible." And then, with a hand on her escort's arm, she laughed, and walked (or should I say glided? It seems a sacrilege to say that so enchanting a creature walked) out of the conservatory, leaving me gazing ruefully and mournfully at the little white slipper in my hand. Now, where in the world was Cinderella? II I thrust the slipper into the tail of my coat, and strolled over to the marble bench which partly encircled the fountain. The tinkle of the falling water made a pleasant sound. Ten years! I had been away ten years. How quickly youth vanishes down the glimmering track of time! Here I was at thirty, rather old, too, for that number; and here was that pretty girl of fourteen grown into womanhood, a womanhood that would have stirred the pulses of many a man less susceptible than myself. That she was unmarried somehow made me glad, though why I can not say, unless it be that vanity survives everything. I had been violently in love with her; at that time she hadn't quite turned six. Then I had lorded it over her tender eighth year, and from the serene height of twenty I had looked down upon her fourteen in a fatherly, patronizing fashion. As I recalled her new glory the truth came upon me that she was like to pay me back with interest for all the snubs I had given her. Off to Heidelberg and Bonn and Berlin! Student days! Heigh-ho! Ten years is a long time. I might still have been an alien, an exile, but for my uncle's death and that the lonely aunt wanted a man about. (Not that I was much of a man to have about.) In all these ten years I had not once visited my native land, scandalous as it may seem; but I had always celebrated the Fourth of July in my garden, celebrated it religiously, too, and followed the general elections.