Such splendor as could be arranged had been provided for the setting of this event.  A Hungarian orchestra, brought with these commissioners, discoursed its peculiar music beyond a screen of palms and flowers.  One of the great parlors had been prepared for those of the young who could not resist the temptation to dance.  At the head of the little line of these visitors, now themselves in effect hosts, stood the old Hungarian general, Zewlinski, an officer over six feet in height, with white hair and wide white mustaches, a distinguished figure in the brilliant Hungarian uniform.  Those of his staff near by added additional vividness to the picture.  The ladies of the party, half of whom spoke English, were costumed quite in keeping, and endeavored by the graciousness of their manner to add to the good impression already formed by their more brilliant companions.  Here and there the more sober uniform of an American army or navy officer might have been seen, brought thither on demand of his lady.  The ladies themselves were out in force, and in their most brilliant array.  The doors had not been opened for a half hour before all prophecies were more than fulfilled.  The rooms were packed with a struggling mass of humanity, all eager to grasp the hand of the representative of Hungary and of the members of his company.  Patriotism, liberty, brotherly love were in the speech of all.  Never has our country been more full of zeal for liberty than then, never more inconsistent, never more swiftly forgetful.

In these circumstances, the somewhat bewildered commissioners did what they could graciously to discover to all their friendly feeling toward this country.  For more than an hour they stood in line, bowing, smiling, accepting hands, offering greetings, a little wondering perhaps, yet none the less well assured of the attitude of this people toward their own country, and hoping there might later be substantial financial proof of its sincerity.

It was at about this time that there entered at the door near the head of the receiving line a young woman, for the time apparently quite unattended.  She was brilliantly robed, with jewels flashing at neck and wrists, clad like a queen and looking one.  Of good height and splendid carriage, her dark hair and singularly striking features might at first have caused the belief that she was one of this party of foreigners, toward whom she now advanced.  A second glance would have shown her beauty to be of that universal world-quality which makes its owner difficult to classify, although assured of approval in any quarter of the world.

[Illustration:  Clad like a queen and looking one.]

That this lady was acquainted with social pageants might have been in the first instant quite evidenced by her comportment here.  Many eyes turned toward her as she approached the head of the line.  She was unconscious of all, lazily, half-insolently observant, yet wholly unconcerned.  Some observers choked back a sudden exclamation.  A hush fell in the great room, then followed a low buzzing of curious or interested, wise or ignorant human bees.