He was better able than Mr. Ogilvie to push his way through the crowd of footmen who stood in two lines across the pavement in front of Beauregard House, watching for the first appearance of their master or mistress; but he resignedly followed, and found himself in the avenue leading clear up to the steps.  They were not the only arrivals, late as the hour was.  Two young girls, sisters, clad in cream-white silk with a gold fringe across their shoulders and sleeves, preceded them; and he was greatly pleased by the manner in which these young ladies, on meeting in the great hall an elderly lady who was presumably a person of some distinction, dropped a pretty little old-fashioned courtesy as they shook hands with her.  He admired much less the more formal obeisance which he noticed a second after.  A royal personage was leaving; and as this lady, who was dressed in mourning, and was leaning on the arm of a gentleman whose coat was blazing with diamond stars, and whose breast was barred across with a broad blue ribbon, came along the spacious landing at the foot of the wide staircase, she graciously extended her hand and said a few words to such of the ladies standing by as she knew.  That deep bending of the knee he considered to be less pretty than the little courtesy performed by the young ladies in cream-white silk.  He intended to mention this matter to his cousin Janet.

Then, as soon as the Princess had left the lane, through which she had passed closed up again, and the crowd became a confused mass of murmuring groups.  Still meekly following, Macleod plunged into this throng, and presently found himself being introduced to Lady Beauregard—­an amiable little woman who had been a great beauty in her time, and was pleasant enough to look at now.  He passed on.

“Who is the man with the blue ribbon and the diamond star?” he asked of Mr. Ogilvie.

“That is Monsieur le Marquis himself—­that is your host,” the young gentleman replied—­only Macleod could nor tell why he was obviously trying to repress some covert merriment.

“Didn’t you hear?” Mr. Ogilvie said at length.  “Don’t you know what he called you?  That man will be the death of me—­for he’s always at it.  He announced you as Sir Thief Macleod—­I will swear he did.”

“I should not have thought he had so much historical knowledge,” Macleod answered, gravely.  “He must have been reading up about the clans.”

At this moment Lady Beauregard, who had been receiving some other late visitors, came up and said she wished to introduce him to—­he could not make out the name.  He followed her.  He was introduced to a stout elderly lady, who still had beautifully fine features, and a simple and calm air which rather impressed him.  It is true that at first a thrill of compassion went through him; for he thought that some accident had befallen the poor lady’s costume, and that it had fallen down a bit unknown to herself; but he soon perceived that most of the other women were dressed similarly, some of the younger ones, indeed, having the back of their dress open practically to the waist.  He wondered what his mother and Janet would say to this style.