A murmur went through the crowd as the chal lenge was described. Charles lifted the heavy silver tray above his head. The trophy glinted in the sun as he turned left and right to show it off. Men in the audience elbowed one another, exchanging looks. There were a number of cattle breeders who had brought bulls to the show, but Callie was sure that not one of them approached Hubert's size. Still, with a such a grand prize, there was an eager push forward to sign animals onto the list of hopeful contestants for measure.

Mr. Price turned to her, beaming. It was a fine boost to the show, to have such an unusual and valuable challenge, he informed her with enthusiasm. Nothing could be better to generate excitement and bring attention. All the society officials were eager to attend to her, inquiring after her husband's health with some anxiety. Callie tried to assure them with a good many nods and a few broken English phrases that he was only feeling the effects of their recent journey.

Her stif led utterances were smothered entirely by the realization that Major Sturgeon had made his way onto the platform. As she stood frozen in dismay, he spoke to the president. That gentleman turned to her with a smile.

"Madame," he said gaily, "here's someone who tells me that he's visited your beautiful country and wishes an introduction. May I have the honor?"

Callie stared through her veil, not finding any way to avoid it without throwing herself bodily from the platform into the crowd. She gave a slight nod, turning her face downward so that the brim of her hat obscured her face even further.

"I give you Major Sturgeon, Madame," the presi dent said. "Major, this is our honored guest, Madame Malempré, who adds such a mark of nobility to our humble agricultural affair!"

Callie allowed the major to take her hand, giving a faint curtsy as he bent over it.

"I am enchanted!" he said. He leaned close to her and said in a confiding voice, "But I have been to Malempré myself, Madame, and found it to be a charming place."

For an instant she felt as if she would simply dissolve, sinking to the f loor in a puddle of terror. He had been to Malempré. She had no idea where Malempré was, except that it was presumably somewhere in Belgium. Never having been to Belgium, she could not even summon a speculation as to what sort of place it might be, if it was large or small, f lat or mountainous, busy or rural. It might be dotted with pagodas and Chinamen for all she knew. Far worse, she didn't know if a visitor to Malempré would be likely to have met a Madame and Monsieur Malempré there.

"I do not… well speak," she said hesitantly, keeping her face lowered and her voice pitched low to disguise it.