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312 How was he to know that these queer-looking people out there were counts and countesses, barons and baronesses, princes and princesses? Swarthy Italians, sallow-faced Frenchmen, dark Hungarians, bearded Russians and pompous Teutons! How was he to know that once upon a time all of these had gone without masks in the streets and courts of far-off lands and had worn "purple and fine linen"? And those plainly, poorly dressed women? Where,—oh where, were the smart New Yorkers for whom he had furbished himself up so neatly?

What manner of companions had this lovely bride,—ah, but she had the real atmosphere!— What sort of people had she been thrown with during her stay in the City of New York? She who might have known the best, the most exclusive,—"bless me, what a pity!"

Here and there in the motley throng, he espied a figure that suggested upper Fifth Avenue. The little lady with the snow-white hair; the tall brunette with the rather stunning hat; the austere gentleman far in the rear, the ruddy faced old man behind him, and the aggressive-looking individual with the green necktie,— Yes, any one of them might have come from uptown and ought to feel somewhat out of place in this singular gathering. The three gentlemen especially. He sized them up as financiers, as plutocrats. And yet they were back where the family servants usually sat.

He got through with the service,—indulgently, it is to be feared, after all.

He would say, on the whole, that he had never seen a handsomer couple than Lord and Lady Temple. There was compensation in that. Any one with half