"I don't know just how I would proceed, Madam," the ambassador objected
diffidently. "It would be rather unusual, difficult, I may say, and--"

"But surely you can arrange it some way?" she interrupted demurely. "The
highest diplomatic representative of a great nation should not find it
difficult to arrange so simple a matter as--as this?" She was smiling.

"Pardon me for suggesting it, Madam," the ambassador persisted
courteously, "but anything out of the usual attracts attention in
Washington. I dare say, from the manner of your appearance to-night,
that you would not care to attract attention to yourself."

She regarded him with an enigmatic smile.

"I'm afraid you don't know women, Count," she said slowly, at last.
"There's nothing dearer to a woman's heart than to attract attention to
herself." She laughed--a throaty, silvery note that was charming. "And
if you hesitate now, then to-morrow--why, to-morrow I am going to ask
that you open to me all this Washington world--this brilliant world of
diplomatic society. You see what I ask now is simple."

The ambassador was respectfully silent and deeply thoughtful for a time.
There was, perhaps, something of resentment struggling within him, and
certainly there was an uneasy feeling of rebellion at this attempt to
thrust him forward against all precedent.

"Your requests are of so extraordinary a nature that--" he began in
courteous protestation.

There was no trace of impatience in the woman's manner; she was still