The Duchess did like good music for nothing, and when, a week later, she
was told on her arrival that Joyselle was to be of the party, she was
much pleased. She was only an ancient dowager, full of aches and pains
and sad and merry memories, but she was a great favourite nevertheless,
for her aches and pains and sad memories were kept safely in the
background, whereas her merry and sometimes somewhat shocking
recollections made her the very best of good company.

"A great man, my dear," she told Lady Kingsmead, "one of the finest
artistes I ever heard. I remember once in Petersburg, heaven only knows
how many centuries ago, hearing him play before the Czar. He was
extraordinarily handsome then, a tall young fellow--he can't be much
over forty now--very broad and strong-looking, with beautiful wavy brown
hair and gorgeous black eyes. The Grand Duchess Anastasia-Katherine was
very much in love with him, and he with her. She gave him a rose before
everybody--a red rose--and he kissed it quite boldly before he put it
into his coat. A remarkably dashing young man!"

"You have heard, I suppose, that my girl is going to marry his son?"

"Bless me, no! Has the creature a son? Men of that type ought never to
marry and have sons. What is he like, the boy?"

"A delightful person, Duchess, and we are all so pleased about it. I had
hoped for some time that she would take him--anyone could see how things
were going with _him_--but she was always so peculiar, and I rather
feared at one time that she would say no," and so on, and so on. Lady
Kingsmead did not know she was lying, and the Duchess, who was sleepy
and had on a tight dress, did not care. When she had found out who the