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 his own complexion. Meanwhile, he became so gallant in his praise of the French lady that Miss Crewe looked faintly surprised, though Lady Broadfeather did not. Time after time, he proposed Mme. Momoro's health in the brave eighteenth-century manner, always brightly ignoring the fact that the ceremony had already been performed. "To Artemis!" he said, and visibly was pleased to think this an original inspiration. "To Artemis, light-footed on the hills, if you understand. When goddesses come to life let it be our mortal privilege to offer libations and quaff nectar to them!" He also drank to Hyacinthe, who rose and bowed, but seemed slightly embarrassed by the compliment. "To your good health, young gentleman! You are the Mozart of bridge. We must recognize precocious genius as well as goddesses." And a little later, he called Mme. Momoro's attention to an amiable-looking young couple dining at a table across the room. "Other potentates are dining in Bougie this evening besides yourself, august Artemis. Those two young people are the hereditary rulers of the old and independent principality of Fühlderstein, Prince Orthe the Eighteenth and his bride. They were staying at our hotel in Algiers last week. Curious how one encounters