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 pride at the success Olivia was making, but when a superb dowager sitting next Mrs. De Peyster asked, in a loud whisper, if he was "the father of Miss Berkeley," the Colonel's wrath rose. He made a courtly bow, and explained that Miss Berkeley was the daughter of Colonel Berkeley, of Virginia.

Not only once did the Grand Duke dance with Olivia, but twice—and he asked permission to call on her the next afternoon.

"With the greatest pleasure," answered Olivia gayly—"and—pray don't forget to come."

At which the Grand Duke grinned like any other man at a merry challenge from a girl.

At last the ball was over. Toward two o'clock Pembroke put the ladies of his party in their carriages and started to walk home. Madame Volkonsky had not been able to spoil the ball for Olivia.

"Good-bye," she cried to Pembroke, waving her hand. "To-morrow at four o'clock he comes—I shall begin making my toilette at twelve."

"Very pretty ball of Eliza Peyton's," said the Colonel, settling himself back in the carriage and buttoning up his great-coat. "Volkonsky—ha! ha! And that fellow, Ahlberg—by Gad! an infernal sneaking cur—I beg your pardon, my dear, for swearing, but of all the damned impostors I ever saw M. Volkonsky is the greatest, excepting always Eliza Peyton."