Although the strong sunlight was tempered by the closed jalousies and the drawn muslin curtains, she sat with her back to the window, so that her features were but dimly visible in the darkened atmosphere of the room. There was something of coquetry in this; but there was more,--there was a dash of semi-secrecy in the air of gloom and stillness around, which gave to each visitor who presented himself,--and she received but one at a time,--an impression of being admitted to an audience of confidence and trust. The mute-like servant who waited in the corridor without, and who drew back a massive curtain on your entrance, also aided the delusion, imparting to the interview a character of mysterious solemnity. Through that solemn portal there had passed, in and out, during the morning, various dignitaries of the land, ministers and envoys, and grand “chargés” of the Court. The embroidered key of the Chamberlain and the purple stockings of a Nuncio had come and gone; and now there was a Brief pause, for the groom in waiting had informed the crowd in the antechamber that the Princess could receive no more. Then there was a hurried scrawling of great names in a large book, a shower of visiting-cards, and all was over; the fine equipages of fine people dashed off, and the courtyard of the hotel was empty. The large clock on the mantelpiece struck three, and Madame de Sabloukoff compared the time with her watch, and by a movement of impatience showed a feeling of displeasure. She was not accustomed to have her appointments lightly treated, and he for whom she had fixed an hour was now thirty minutes behind his time. She had been known to resent such unpunctuality, and she looked as though she might do so again. “I remember the day when his grand-uncle descended from his carriage to speak to me,” muttered she; “and that same grand-uncle was an emperor.” Perhaps the chance reflection of her image in the large glass before her somewhat embittered the recollection, for her features flushed, and as suddenly grew pale again. It may have been that her mind went rapidly back to a period when her fascination was a despotism that even the highest and the haughtiest obeyed. “Too true,” said she, speaking to herself, “time has dealt heavily with us all. But _they_ are no more what they once were than am I. Their old compact of mutual assistance is crumbling away under the pressure of new rivalries and new pretensions. Kings and Kaisers will soon be like bygone beauties. I wonder will they bear their altered fortune as heroically?” It is but just to say that her tremulous accents and quivering lip bore little evidence of the heroism she spoke of. She rang the bell violently, and as the servant entered she said, but in a voice of perfect unconcern,-- “When the Count von Wahnsdorf calls, you will tell him that I am engaged, but will receive him to-morrow--”