“Here’s to your first duel with a woman in which you use a man’s weapons, Roberta, Marquise of Grez and Bye, and see that you score—­for him—­and for France!” I said to myself as we rose from the table and with the other men I bowed the ladies from the room.

“At midnight,” I whispered while I bent for a second to kiss the hand of the beautiful Madam Whitworth as she left the room.  As I raised my head from the salutation I encountered the eyes of the Gouverneur Faulkner, which looked into mine with an expression of calm question.  And for a moment I let the woman rise superior to the raven attire and I looked back into those eyes, in which I saw the mystery of the dawn star, as would have gazed Roberta, Marquise of Grez and Bye, had she been attired in the white tulle and lace abandoned in that New York; then I beat her back down into my heart and gave him the smile of fealty that was his due from Robert Carruthers, his friend, along with one similar, to the fine young Buzz Clendenning, who at that moment came to my side and claimed my attention.

“You score with Sue.  I’m to be the gracious little home city host and give up any dances your Marquisity may choose with her.  Sue foxes like she was born in a fox hole under a hollow log, but she tangoes like the original Emperor Tang himself, so go ahead and suit yourself.  Don’t mind me.  I’m the loving little playmate.”

“That Mademoiselle Sue is so much of a peach that I am inclined to request the receptacle of cream that I may devour her,” I then made answer to him in as many of the words of enthusiasm over a nice lady as I could remember that Mr. George Slade of Detroit to have used over the “skirt” in Louisville in the Country of Kentucky.

“Good, Bobby!  I’ll have to go tell Sue that before she is two minutes older.  I wouldn’t want her to live five minutes longer without having heard it.  Sue’s dead sure to tell the rest of the girl bunch, so I hope you have a supply where that came from, for they’ll all cry for ’em.  There’s the Governor making towards the door and Mrs. Pat, who is always waiting at the gate for him, so come, let me lead you to the dance.”  With which my nice Buzz and I followed the Gouverneur Faulkner and the other gentlemen across the hall into the long salon of the Mansion, whose floors were polished like unto a lake of ice, for dancing.

In Touraine it is said that a nice lady fairy comes for a visit of inspection at the berceau—­in America it is cradle—­of each small human that is born, and gives to it a beautiful gift if propitiations are made for it to please her.  To that end sweetmeats and nice presents are placed beside the small infant with which to beguile the good opinion of that fairy.  I would I could be that exalted person and able to visit every small infant born a female in all of the world.  And the gift I would give to her, there in her sleep, would be to one time in her life attend a ball in the raven attire of a man in the city of Hayesville of America.  I could bestow no greater gift.