“i consider him,” said mrs. strong, wife of gerald strong the banker, “i consider him, kate, the handsomest and most attractive man i have ever met. everybody on the steamer was charmed with him. even your father, who is not impressionable, was fascinated by count szalaki.”

“his name sounds like the toothache,” remarked kate strong, gazing at her mother with an unbending countenance. they were seated in the drawing-room of one of the most luxurious homes in upper fifth avenue, half an hour before the time set for dinner.

kate strong resembled her mother in face and figure. they were tall, graceful women, with clear-cut, patrician features. the difference in their ages was not strongly marked. mrs. strong often remarked playfully that she and her daughter had grown up together. but, while mrs. strong’s hair had begun to turn white beneath the touch of advancing years, the golden glory of youth still rested upon kate’s head. furthermore, there was a great contrast in the habitual expression that animated their respective faces. there were firm, almost harsh, lines around mrs. strong’s mouth that told of a strong will and indicated a set purpose in life. kate’s face, beautiful in contour and dazzling in the freshness of its tints, betrayed a[10] rebellious, restless nature that had not yet found in existence an ambition that fully satisfied her soul. the mother’s lips seemed fashioned for command, the daughter’s for something they had not yet tasted.

“you are so flippant, kate,” remarked mrs. strong, reprovingly. “i am sure that when you see the count you will not feel inclined to joke about anything connected with him—not even his name.”

“he seems to have hypnotized you, mamma. tell me about him. is he very high in rank?”

mrs. strong smiled at her daughter’s show of interest. it pleased her.

“we really don’t know, kate, just how prominent he is in rexania. it’s a queer country, you know. they’re always having outbreaks there, and the kings and nobles have to go armed most of the time. but your father says that the count, although he is very reticent about his country and its affairs, seems to be on intimate terms with all the crowned heads of europe.”

at this moment, ned strong, a youth a few years older than kate, entered the room, carefully attired in evening dress.

“i suppose, mamma, that your friend the count will be late. it’s a way those foreigners have. there’s no snap about them: is there, kate?”

the girl looked up admiringly at her tall, handsome brother, whose manly, vibrant voice indicated an energetic temperament that possessed large dynamic possibilities for good or evil.

“that’s the reason i like them,” she exclaimed, inconsistently. “they don’t seem[11] to feel that they were put into the world to do something. they are clever. they made their ancestors do their work.”

ned strong glanced at his mother quizzically.

“i wish,” he said earnestly, “that we could get kate to have a few firm convictions. what she is in favor of one day she is sure to be opposed to the next. it is so hard to tell what she really thinks.”

kate smiled amusedly. “forgive me, ned,” she implored. “i’m sorry i don’t please you. but i’ll make you a promise. if you are really anxious to know what i think of count szalaki, i’ll tell you to-night after he has gone. but here’s papa. he knows more about count szalaki than mamma does.”

“yes, father,” put in ned, rising as gerald strong, a portly, clean-shaven, gray-haired man, entered the drawing-room. “tell us about the count. is there anything to him besides his title?”

“yes, ned, i think there is,” answered mr. strong, seating himself and looking at his watch. “he’s got manners and good looks, speaks several languages, and seems to have read a good deal. but he’s awfully green about this country. he really seemed to think that chicago was more of a place than new york. he’ll get over that, of course. i wanted to have him meet some of our people to-night, but he begged me to receive him en famille. he seems to dread notoriety.”

“that looks suspicious,” commented kate.

“i am astonished, kate,” exclaimed mrs. strong. “one would think that you could[12] not trust your father and myself to travel alone for fear that we should be imposed upon. count szalaki wants to see the country, not to be interviewed by reporters.”

“by the way,” remarked ned, looking at his father, “are there many rexanians in new york?”

“a few hundred, i believe, on the east side,” answered mr. strong, who had taken a practical interest in politics during the revival of reform movements. “most of them came over here about ten years ago, when the present king banished a large number of revolutionists. i have heard that they make good citizens, but are inclined to talk anarchy when under the influence of beer.”

“did you talk politics with the count?”

“i tried to,” answered mr. strong, again glancing at his watch, for he was sorely in need of a dinner. “he is a very sensible young man, considering the fact that he has a title and estates in a monarchical country. but he got more out of me than i obtained from him. he asked me a hundred questions—some of them really laughable—about our form of government and my opinion of the ability of a free people to rule themselves.”

“of course,” remarked ned, sarcastically, “you gave him to understand that we place entire confidence in the ‘people,’ hoi polloi, demos. you said nothing to him about ‘bosses’?”

mr. strong glanced at his son deprecatingly.

“satire is not your strong point, ned. of course i didn’t dwell upon the defects of our system to the count. i rather encouraged him to think that our experiment in[13] self-government had been a thorough success.”

“it certainly has, father—for the bankers,” commented the young man, gazing quizzically at mr. strong.

“isn’t ned unbearable!” cried kate, warmly. “perhaps, ned, you’ll be willing to tell the count just how this country ought to be governed.”

“i leave that to you, kate. don’t you attend professor smith’s lectures on representative government? surely the count can learn more about our institutions from the women of our set than from the men.”

“we have more patriotism,” cried kate.

“no, you have more leisure,” answered ned.

“be quiet, children,” whispered mrs. strong, nervously, as the butler appeared at the door and announced:

“count szalaki.”

a young man entered the drawing-room hastily, and bent courteously over mrs. strong’s outstretched hand.

“he looks like lord byron,” whispered kate to her brother. then she turned and met the smiling eyes of a youth whose glance was strangely magnetic.