Like a great captain who in the wake of victory makes speed to again strike the enemy while yet the latter is disorganized and before he can re-collect formation or even hope, Peg was next and swiftly in the field with that dinner for her glory at the Russian legation, tendered by the wily Baron Krudener--he of the earrings and the scarlet heels. The Tartar, as the General called him, zealous for the favor of the General and Van Buren, was keen to note how a civility done Peg would become a key to the best good will of both. After Krudener's, came the cabinet reception at our “good little secretary's,” where Peg would reign; and since Van Buren lived but a half-dozen houses north from Peg's, it was hardly to step beyond her own door. Then followed the ball given by the British with Peg in the place of esteem, and the Viscount Vaughn to lead Peg forth in the first figure with his own diplomatic hand. Who could have been more delighted than the General with this splendor of _salon_ success now spread to our pretty Peg's uninterrupted feet, and that under the jaundiced eyes of her enemies? The General could not be present at either the “good little secretary's,” the Russian or the English house; but he was indomitable to hear; and never exquisite, nor macaroni, nor buck about London town, gave ear of warmer ardor to the nightly annals of Mayfair than did the General to those stories of Peg's victories. Who were there and what they did and said, would be his constant curiosity; and indeed he carried question-putting to the verge of what stood foppish. “But can't you see, sir,” demanded the General, when I told him how his heat to trace Peg's skirts through every dance, or learn the calling list of each reception, would jostle one's better conception of him, “can't you see that with the world and the law as made, this is the trial of Peg's standing, and freighted of life or death?” “No,” said I, full bluntly; “and if you will have my notion then, I call these things mere antic matters of apeish trick and chatter, not worth a man's attention.” “You are a barbarian,” retorted the General, oracularly. “These functions--these dinners and dances and receptions--are trials by jury where the repute of folk, peculiarly the repute of women folk, is passed upon. The verdict in her favor means the world and all for Peg. It is the law.” “And if it be,” said I, “it is but a bad law and a cheap law, and one whereat I should snap my fingers.”