Great lady as she was, there was something mysterious, possibly equivocal, about her personality, and, if life in Paris were not so stirring, so exacting, so absorbing, many who frequented her receptions might well have asked who precisely she was, and have searched curiously through the pages of the Almanach de Gotha to find the credentials for her ducal blazon. The high rank she held at the Court of Frederick Christian II was indeed matter of common knowledge, further, that she was honoured by the very special friendship of the Prince Gudulfin was whispered in private conclave; but this pretty well summed up the total of what society in general did know about her. But it is never the custom, so long as a woman is rich, beautiful and witty, so long as no open scandal attaches to her name, to be over-exacting as to details? At any rate, each time the grand duchess threw open her drawing rooms for one of the superb and sumptuous entertainments she was in the habit of giving, no eagerness was too shameless to secure an invitation, no one but was only too proud and happy to be numbered among her guests. Though it was already May, the Grand Duchess Alexandra was to-night giving a fancy-dress ball. This had long been promised, but having been postponed in consequence of the great lady’s being indisposed, was at last fixed for this belated period of the season. It was eleven o’clock, and guests were beginning to arrive, carriages driving up in rapid succession to the steps of the villa, one after the other depositing masked figures, some baffling, some charming, in costumes borrowed from legend, history, in some cases even recalling contemporary politics. Dancing had not yet commenced, all were devoting their energies to applauding, enthusiastically applauding, the most becoming dresses, the most ingenious disguises, as they appeared. The evening was delicious, the mild spring weather perfect, so that the masquers could gather under the wide awning that sheltered the steps and there welcome each new arrival. The general attention was beginning to flag, and the duchess herself, abandoning the attempt to shake every new arrival by the hand—their number made the task impossible—was about to return to the reception rooms, where the Gipsy orchestra had just struck up one of their softest and most melodious waltz tunes, when a magnificent automobile drew up at the steps. The car roused no little curiosity by the fact that its blinds were drawn down so as to make it impossible to see who was inside. Instinctively almost, as sometimes happens, the talk grew hushed; heads were turned and necks craned to see. Staying momentarily the play of her ever-moving fan, the grand duchess herself seemed to be puzzled as she eagerly awaited the newcomer, whose very sex was still a secret.