“So is my fortune, Aunt Middleton,” laughed Claudia.

“Very well,” sighed the lady.

“And—­aunt?”

“Yes, dear?”

“Devizac must supply the supper.”

“Claudia, you are mad!  Everything that man touches turns to gold—­for his own pocket.”

Claudia shrugged her shoulders.

“Aunt, what do I care for all that.  I can afford it.  As long as he can hold out to charge, I can hold out to pay.  I mean to enjoy my fortune, and live while I live.”

“Ah, my dear, wealth was given for other purposes than the enjoyment of its possessor!” sighed Mrs. Middleton.

“I know it, aunty.  It was given for the advancement of its possessor.  I have another object besides enjoyment in view.  I say, aunty!”

“Well, my child?”

“We must be very careful whom we have here.”

“Of course, my dear.”

“We must have the best people.”

“Certainly.”

“We must invite the diplomatic corps.”

“By all means.”

“And—­all foreigners of distinction, who may be present in the city.”

“Yes, my love.”

“We must not forget to invite—­”

“Who, my dear?”

“Lord Vincent.”

“Humph!  Has he called here?”

“He left his card a week ago.”

The day succeeding this conversation the cards of invitation to the Merlin ball were issued.

And in ten days the ball came off.

It was—­as Miss Merlin had resolved it should be—­the most splendid affair of the kind that has ever been seen in Washington, before or since.  It cost a small fortune, of course, but it was unsurpassed and unsurpassable.  Even to this day it is remembered as the great ball.  As Claudia had determined, Vourienne superintended the decorations of the reception, dancing, and supper rooms; Devizac furnished the refreshment, and Dureezie the music.  The elite of the city were present.  The guests began to assemble at ten o’clock, and by eleven the rooms were crowded.

Among the guests was he for whom all this pageantry had been got up—­the
Viscount Vincent.

With excellent taste, Claudia had on this occasion avoided display in her own personal appointments.  She wore a snow-white, mist-like tulle over white glace silk, that floated cloud-like around her with every movement of her graceful form.  She wore no jewelry, but upon her head a simple withe of the cypress vine, whose green leaves and crimson buds contrasted well with her raven black hair.  Yet never in all the splendor of her richest dress and rarest jewels had she looked more beautiful.  The same good taste that governed her unassuming toilet withheld her from taking any prominent part in the festivities of the evening.  She was courteous to all, solicitous for the comfort of her guests, yet not too officious.  As if only to do honor to the most distinguished stranger present, she danced