“We have many costumes of the time in our chests, Highness,” the Zápolya was saying. “I am sure that Miss Abbott would look charming in one of rose-colored velvet--to which she would be more than welcome; and if you conclude to ask the Deputies, some tailor here could use the others as models. We have also two or three of the purple velvet costumes with the long gold chains, and the head braidwork of gold and pearls, worn by two of the three hundred youths sent by Matthias in the embassy to Charles VIII., King of France. If you were escorted into the throne room by a great number of pages in this costume, Highness, the effect would be one of perfect loveliness.” The Archduchess understood her perfectly, but she felt her own strength, and was amused at the flash in the American’s eyes. Moreover, her mind grasped the peculiar advantages which a fancy-dress ball would afford herself. She said sweetly: “The national costume during the reign of Matthias differed little from that of any other reign, I suppose?” “It merely reached its height of extravagance. The national characteristics have always remained the same.” “Then, if you will allow me, I will look at your costumes, and, no doubt, find one that I shall be delighted to copy.” In spite of her hostility the little Countess was flattered. She assured her princess, with something like spontaneous enthusiasm, that she should order the costumes brought to the palace on the morrow. “I have a painting of Matthias in his robes of state,” said Prince Illehazy. “I wonder will any one have the courage to impersonate him? He was a mighty figure, that son of John Hunyadi, and I have not the slightest doubt that the blood of kings was in his veins. There is no man in Hungary, alas! fit to wear his mantle, not even at a fancy-dress ball.” “He was a plebeian,” said the Countess Piroska, lifting her little nose. “And even could it be proved that John Hunyadi was the son of King Sigismund, all his fame, even the medicinal water named after him, could not obliterate the bar sinister.” “The little cat!” said Prince Illehazy under his breath. He replied, “When a man makes a success of his life the bar sinister lends him the added distinction of picturesqueness, and not only did the Knight of the Black Raven have the blood of real kings in his veins, but Sigismund united on his head the crowns of Imperial Germany, Hungary, and Bohemia. Sigismund had his faults, but he was the head of the Holy Roman Empire, and neither he, nor his great son, and greater grandson, need descendants to keep the family name alive.” “I suppose the ball must open with the Chardash,” said Ranata hastily, and forbearing to glance at the crushed Zápolya. “And I do not know how to dance it!”