"How beautifully Miss Widgett speaks French!" somebody murmured, when Sylvia was being led into the throne-room. "It's such a gift." Sylvia was very much impressed by a large orange flag nailed to the wall above the Emperor's throne. _"Le drapeau impériale de Byzance," Miss Widgett said. "Voyez-vous l'aigle avec deux têtes. Il était fait pour sa majesté impériale par le Société du roi Charles I de West London."_ "King Charles again," Sylvia thought. "_Il faut baiser la main_," Miss Widgett prompted. Sylvia followed out the suggestion; and the Emperor, to whom Miss Widgett had whispered a few words, said: "_Ah, vous êtes français,_" and to Miss Widgett, "Who did you say he was?" "I really don't know. He came with Baron von Statten. _Comment vous appelez-vous?_" Miss Widgett asked, turning to Sylvia. Sylvia answered that she was called Monsieur Sylvestre, and just then a most unusual squealing was heard in the antechamber. "_Mon dieu! qu'est-ce que c'est que ça?_" Sylvia cried. "_C'est le--comment dit-on_ bagpipes _en Français? C'est le 'baagpeep' vous savez_," which left Sylvia as wise as she was before. However, as there was no general panic, she ceased to be frightened. Soon she saw Jimmy beckoning to her from the antechamber, and shortly afterward they left the reception, which had interested Sylvia very much, though she regretted that nobody had offered her an ice. Monkley congratulated Sylvia upon her quickness in grasping that he had wanted her to pretend she was French, and by his praise roused in her the sense of ambition, which, though at present it was nothing more than a desire to please him personally, marked, nevertheless, a step forward in the development of her character; certainly from this moment the old fear of having no one to look after her began to diminish, and though she still viewed with pleasure the prospect of being alone, she began to have a faint conception of making herself indispensable, perceiving dimly the independence that would naturally follow. Meanwhile, however gratifying Monkley's compliment, it could not compensate her for the ice she had not been given, and Sylvia made this so plain to him that he invited her into a confectioner's shop on the way home and gave her a larger ice than any she had seen at the Emperor's. Ever since Sylvia had made friends with Jimmy Monkley, her father had adopted the attitude of being left out in the cold, which made him the worst kind of audience for an enthusiastic account of the reception. Mrs. Meares, though obviously condescending, was a more satisfactory listener, and she was able to explain to Sylvia some of the things that had puzzled her, among others the old gentleman's remark about Gaelic.