bold-faced, overgrown grenadier."

Madame hissed out the words between a set of spiteful, false teeth,
and glared, as women do glare, upon the gray-eyed Blanche. And Carl
listened, and laughed sardonically.

"A woman without a heart. So much the better, mother; the less heart
the more head; and I like your clever, dashing women, who are big and
buxom, and able to take care of themselves. Don't forget, mother mine,
I haven't proposed to the sparkling Blanche, and I don't think I
shall--to-night. You wouldn't have me fall at the feet of those
mealy-winged moths fluttering around us, with heads softer than their
poor little hearts--you wouldn't, I hope?"

With which Mr. Walraven went straight back to Miss Oleander and asked
her to dance the lancers.

Miss Oleander, turning with ineffable calm from a bevy of rose-robed and
white-robed young ladies, said, "Yes," as if Mr. Walraven was no more
than any other man, and stood up to take his arm.

But there is many a slip. Miss Oleander and Mr. Walraven never danced
that particular set, for just then there came a ring at the door-bell
so pealing and imperious that it sounded sharply even through the noisy
ball-room.

"The Marble Guest, surely," Blanche said, "and very determined to be
heard."

Before the words were well uttered there was a sound of an altercation