"Lee? ... Waldorff?" quoth she, surprised.
"Steven Lee in England, Waldorff-Kielmansegg in Austria," said the fiddler, blandly.
"O du mein lieber Oesterreich!" she exclaimed, singing; and the forget-me-not eyes became suffused with the tear of sensibility.
"Waldorff-Kielmansegg of Waldeck," enumerated the master of ceremonies; while Steven stood in dignity, conscious of his honours.
"Then we are cousins!" She clapped her soft palms; the rising emotion was forgotten in laughter. "Positively we are cousins. I am Schwartzenberg—Betty von Schwartzenberg—and my mother's second cousin, Rezy Lützow, married Tony Kielmansegg. You are welcome, my cousin."
She held out her hand. He kissed it ceremoniously; and she, bending forward, sketched a butterfly salute on his forehead. It was the custom in his father's country; but he had lived long enough in England for it to have grown unfamiliar. His heart contracted with a delicious spasm, and the blood sang in his ears. Before he knew what he was doing, he found himself holding the taper fingers close, found his lips upon them again.
Perhaps the lady was displeased; but, if so, she cloaked the fact with a very pretty blush, and, as they drew apart, there could be no doubt but that the young visitor's position was established. She now looked expectantly towards the elder of her guests.
He stood watching them with quizzical gaze, tapping his snuff-box, one leg becomingly advanced. She waited to hear a no less fine-sounding introduction. But as the waiting was prolonged to almost a hint of awkwardness:
"Will you not," said she, "Cousin Kielmansegg, return Monsieur's good offices?"
It was Count Steven's turn to blush.