Popova became merely a sort of footman, or modified chaperon.  He knew that he had no real authority and seldom attempted even the most timid suggestions as to her conduct.  Once or twice he mentioned health-food and dieting, and was pooh-poohed into a corner.  As for the women attendants, who had been sent along that they might be the companions of the Princess during the long hours of loneliness and seclusion, they were trained to act as hair-dressers and French maids and repairing seamstresses!

Kalora had money and a title and physical attractions.  Could she well escape the gaieties of Washington?  Be assured that she made no effort to escape them.  She followed the busy routine of dinners and balls, receptions and afternoon teas, her childish enthusiasm never lagging.  She could play at golf and she seemed to know horseback riding the first time she tried it, and after the first two weeks she drove her own motor-car.

The letters that went back to Morovenia were fairly dripping with superlatives and happy adjectives.  She was delighted with Washington; she was in excellent health; the members of the Legation were very thoughtful in their attentions; the autumn weather was all that could be desired; her apartments at the hotel were charming.  In fact, her whole life was rose-colored, but never a word of real news for her anxious father and sister—­nothing about gaining a pound a day.  The Governor-General hoped from the encouraging tone of the letters that she was quietly housed, out in the borders of some primeval forest, gradually enlarging into the fullness of perfect womanhood.

About three months after her departure, in order to reassure himself regarding the progress in her case, he wrote a letter to the minister at Washington.  He told the minister that his child was disposed to be unruly and that Popova had become careless and somewhat indefinite in his reports—­and would he, the minister, please write and let an anxious parent know the actual weight of Princess Kalora?

The minister resented this manner of request.  He did not feel that it was within the duties of a high official to go out and weigh young women, so he replied briefly that he knew no way of ascertaining the exact weight of an acrobatic young woman who never stood still long enough to be weighed, but he could assure the father that she was somewhat slimmer and more petite than when she arrived in Washington a few weeks before.

This letter slowly traveled back to Morovenia, and on the very day of its delivery to Count Selim Malagaski, who read it aloud and then went into a frothing paroxysm of rage, the Princess Kalora in Washington figured in a most joyful episode.

A western millionaire, who had bought a large cubical palace on one of the radiating avenues, was giving a dancing-party, to which the entire blue book had been invited.  Kalora went, trailed by the long-suffering Popova.  She wore her most fetching Parisian gown, and decked herself out with wrought jewelry of quaint and heavy design, which was the envy of all the other young women in town, and she put in a very busy night, for she danced with army officers, and lieutenants of the navy, and one senator, and goodness knows how many half-grown diplomats.