Peg was as glorious as a star, and to me never more lovely, albeit my coral on her bosom may have had somewhat to do with that. And to see her so bowed to and flattered was like a perfume; for it looked as though the foe would forego those old-time tactics of distance and averted gaze, and that a new word was abroad in Peg's behalf. There came no one to more emphasize his courtesy or show more attentive in what might do Peg honor than the Vice-President himself, and with him were the members of that cabinet triumvirate who had cast in their narrow lots with him. Even the stately Mrs. Calhoun would be gracious in a far-off sort, while the ladies Berrien and Branch relaxed from a former frigidity, and if not torrid, were at all events of the temperate zone when the etiquette of the floor would bring Peg and them in contact. As for the vigorous Madam Ingham, she was so overcome of her labors in elevation of Houston that following dinner she could do nothing but repose herself. However, for so much as she remained in the picture, she beamed affably in a fat, vermilion way, and her red face was like the setting sun. The male Ingham, being in prodigious fettle, would fain waddle onto the treacherous floor with Peg in his hand for a dance; for Ingham was sensibly exalted of his valor since Eaton, whom he held in fear, was not present, but off in Baltimore on some long-drawn duty about new rifles--meant, I fear me, for Nullifiers, should their pot of treason over-boil. I will say this of Ingham, however: for all his rotund uncouthness, he went through that dance without falling down; a no small feat I should call it, and one to give me relief, since for the while it lasted I was held on tenter-hooks over Peg's safety, and would hover about ready to rush in and save her should affairs go badly between Ingham and the glass-like floor. There occurred one incident of harshness I could have wished left out. It was when that Frau Huygens drew up to Peg and would greet her as though there were no such name as Krudener and no such story as the slight she cast on Peg in the Russian's dining room. The gross Frau Huygens was arrayed in her one garish frock of many colors, and which her prudence to save money and buy no more frocks had made so well known. Frau Huygens, trained to the venture, doubtless, by her husband, who still dwelt in fear of Van Buren and those passports which should return him to the Hague, swept before Peg with the grace of a cabbage on parade. When Peg, in response to her greeting, was silent and would only look on her in a baffled manner, as though her memory were at bay, Frau Huygens exclaimed, with a Dutch thickness of reproach which no one might imitate with a pen: “Madam, don't you remember me?” “Well, then,” said Peg, as one who makes every polite effort and yet fails, “I remember your dress very well, but your face is strange to me.” With that I swooped on Peg and whisked her away, for I had a horror of what might follow.