"That is an absolute secret, for Grau carefully hides away his coming stars.

Somewhere on Long Island an old Hungarian noble family have had a retreat since the days of Kossuth.
"The Fraeulein is their guest, and, for other reasons than complete faith with Grau, she receives no one.

She is as proud and haughty as she is beautiful, and rumor has it that the pursuit of an Austrian Archduke drove her to the safety of our shores.

All this I have gathered from my old friend, Signore Raffoni." Clayton mutely followed Lilienthal to the door of a private room in the "Bavaria" and, with a wildly beating heart, was bowing low before the woman whose shining eyes had brought to his bosom such strange unrest.
"It is like a page from a novel," the flute-like voice murmured, "that this lucky picture should have brought us together again, as it strangely did once face to face." Randall Clayton's ears drank in that soft, wooing accent, and all the ardor of his eyes betrayed the instant recognition which lay behind the diva's merry words.
When he had murmured his thanks, the presence of Lilienthal seemed to be a bar to any rapprochement.

Clayton was fain to accept Fraeulein Gluyas' courtesy in allowing him a choice as to the handling of the picture or its replica.
"If Mademoiselle will allow me," said Clayton, "I will give Mr.
Lilienthal my cheque for the coming proof, and retain in my possession the one framed in our American manner." This was soon settled, and then, with a glance at his watch, the dealer, bowing low, hurried away.
"We artists have to be unconventional," frankly said the Magyar beauty.
"I await Madame Raffoni here for a little tour of the wonderful New York shops." It was a natural passage from the picture to the memories of the Danube, and then, under the kindling glances of the diva, Randall Clayton talked, with spirit, of his happy summer ramblings through Austria and Hungary.
Irma Gluyas' magnetic eyes burned into his soul as she followed the young stranger in his itinerary.