IN A WINTER CITY.
" What a fine thing to have done! '* said
Madame Mila, pausing by her m the middle of
a waltz, with her brocade train ablaze with gold.
"And now he can come back and marry the
Spiffler gfrl. What do you saj^ Due ? "
" He will never marry la petite Spiffler,"
said the Due, "nor any one else," he added,
with a glance of meaning at Lady HUda,
AU eyes turned upon her. She played idly
with her fan—one painted long ago by Watteau.
"M. deUa Eocca has succeeded, so it is
heroism," she said, calmly. *' Had he failed, I
suppose it would have been foolhardiness."
"Of com'se," said the Due. "Surely, Ma¬
dame, Failure cannot expect to use the same
dictionary as Success ? "
"He must have the Santissima Annunziata, and
marry the big Spiffler dot," said Madame MUa.
"Nay, Comtesse, that were bathos indeed,
to make la petite Spiffler cousine du roi! Any¬
how, let us rejoice that he is living, and that
the old Latin race is still productive of heroes,
I suppose we shaU have details the day aftei;