“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 chapter from Aladdin. I made the effort, but felt the wreath of roses in my hair, and--” “And that convinced you of your wakefulness,” said the baroness, a little haughtily. Turning to the ambassador, she added: “Do you observe, monsieur le marquis, what a delicate attention this lady shows me in wearing a wreath of flowers which I manufactured?” “Comment! The baroness is truly a fairy! She causes flowers to grow at her pleasure, and vies with Nature. It seems impossible. I can scarcely believe it.” “And yet it is true,” said Frau von Morien. “The baroness, indeed, fabricated these roses three years since, when she had the kindness to work for me. You will acknowledge that I have kept them well?”