Vital, self-confident, a trifle foreign, certainly distinguished, at first there might have seemed a trace of defiance in the carriage, even in the glance of Josephine St. Auban.  But a second look into the wide dark eyes would have found there rather a trace of pathos, bordering upon melancholy; and the lines of the mouth, strongly curved, would in all likelihood have gained that sympathy demanded by the eyes, betokening a nature warm and noble, not petty or mean, and certainly not insignificant.

Such was the woman of the hour in Washington, lately frowned on by the ladies as too beautiful, talked about by the gentlemen as too cold, discussed by some, adored by others, understood by none, dreaded by some high in power, plotted against by others yet more high in place.

She cast a hurried glance now at the clock which, tall and solemn, stood near by in the hall.  It was upon the stroke of midnight only.  Turning half questioningly to her maid, she heard a footfall.  The manager of the hotel himself came to greet her, carrying a card in his hand, and with a bow, asking her attention.

“Well, then,” began the young woman, in perfect English, glancing at the card.  Her dark eyes rose to meet his.  “It is impossible,” she said.  “You know my wishes very well.”

“But, my dear Countess, have you noted this name?” began the manager.

“Of course, I know it.  All the more reason there should be mistake.”

“But I assure you, my dear Countess—­”

A step sounded near by, and the curtains swung back, disclosing the entrance to one of the adjoining parlors of the hotel.  The figure of a well-built and hale gentleman, past middle age, of dignified carriage and pleasant features, was revealed.  Half hesitating, he advanced.

“My dear lady,” he began, in a deep and melodious voice, “I come to you doubly handicapped, both as intruder and eavesdropper.  I could not avoid hearing what you have said, and as listeners hear no good of themselves, I venture to interrupt.  I am anxious that your first impression of me should be a good one, Madam!”

She dropped him a curtsy which was grace itself, her dark eyes looking straight into his face.  Surprise brought a slightly heightened color to her cheek.  Seeing her perturbation, the unbidden guest hastened to make what amends were possible.

[Illustration:  She dropped him a curtsy.]

“You were saying it was a mistake, dear lady.  But if so, the intrusion was on my part.  I have wished to meet you quietly, if such may be your pleasure.  I am alone.  Opportunity has lacked for earlier announcement, for I have but reached town this evening.”

She looked from one to the other still questioningly.  The manager of the hotel, feeling discretion to be the best card to play, hurriedly bowed, and hastened away.

The Countess St. Auban hesitated for an instant, but guessed some errand here worth knowing.  Having herself entered the inner room, with grace she signified that the elderly gentleman should first be placed; then, seating herself upon a divan somewhat nearer to the door and hence in shadow, she waited for him to go forward with the business which had brought him hither.