There was not a handsomer, more striking figure in the palace gardens on the night of the reception than Hollingsworth Chase, nor one whose poise proved that he knew the world quite as well as it is possible for any one man to know it. His was an unique figure, also, for he was easily distinguishable as the only American in the brilliant assemblage. He was presented to the Princess late in the evening, together with Baggs of the British office. His pride and confidence received a severe shock. She glanced at him with unaffected welcome, but the air of one who was looking upon his face for the first time. It was not until he had spent a full hour in doleful self-commiseration, that his sense of worldliness came to his relief. In a flash, he was joyously convincing himself that her pose during the presentation was artfully--and very properly--assumed. He saw through it very plainly! How simple he had been! Of course, she could not permit him to feel that she had ever displayed the slightest interest in him! His spirits shot upward so suddenly that Baggs accused him of "negotiating a drink on the sly" and felt very much injured that he had been ignored. The gardens of the palace were not unlike the stage setting of a great spectacle. The sleepy, stolid character of the court had been transformed, as if by magic. Chase wondered where all the pretty, vivacious women could have sprung from--and were these the officers of the Royal Guard that he had so often laughed at in disdain? Could that gay old gentleman in red and gold be the morbid, carelessly clad Duke of Rapp-Thorberg, whom he had grown to despise because he seemed so ridiculously unlike a real potentate? He marvelled and rejoiced as he strolled hither and thither with the casual Baggs, and for the first time in his life really felt that it was pleasant to be stared at--in admiration, too, he may be pardoned for supposing. He could not again approach within speaking distance of the Princess--nor did he presume to make the effort. Chase knew his proper place. It must be admitted, however, that he was never far distant from her, but perhaps chance was responsible for that--chance and Baggs, who, by nature, kept as close to royalty as the restrictions allowed. She was the gayest, the most vivacious being in the whole assemblage; she had but to stretch out her hand or project her smile and every man in touch with the spell was ready to drop at her feet. At last, she led her court off toward the pavilion under which the royal orchestra was playing. As if it were a signal, every one turned his steps in that direction. Chase and the Englishman had been conversing diligently with an ancient countess and her two attractive daughters near the fountain. The Countess gave the command in the middle of Chase's dissertation on Italian cooking, and the party hastily fell in line with the throng which hurried forward. "What is it? Supper again?" whispered Baggs, lugubriously.