own much older. There comes a time in the
life of a woman who has long retained her youth, when the years which
have passed over her head without leaving a wrinkle write themselves
down pitilessly all at once in ineffaceable marks. We no longer say when
we see her: "How lovely she is!" but, "She must have been very lovely."
And that cruel fashion of speaking of the past, of referring to a
distant period what was a visible fact but yesterday, constitutes a
beginning of old age and of retirement,--a substitution of reminiscences
for all past triumphs. Was it the disappointment of seeing the doctor's
wife instead of Madame Jansoulet, or was the discredit which the Duc de
Mora's death had brought upon the fashionable doctor destined to
overflow upon her who bore his name? There was something of both those
causes, and perhaps of another as well, in the cold welcome which the
baroness accorded Madame Jenkins. A murmured greeting, a few hurried
words, and she returned to the battalion of noble dames who were
nibbling away with great zest. The salon became animated under the
influence of the Spanish wines. People no longer whispered; they
talked. Lamps were brought in and imparted additional brilliancy to the
occasion, but announced that it was very near its end, as several
persons who had no interest in the great event were already moving
toward the door. And the Jansoulets did not come.

Suddenly there was a heavy, hurried step. The Nabob appeared, alone,
buttoned into his black frock-coat, correctly gloved and cravatted, but
with distorted features and haggard eye, still trembling from the
terrible scene in which he had just taken part.

She had refused to come.

In the morning he had told Madame's women to have her dressed at three
o'clock, as he was accustomed to do whenever he took the Levantine
abroad with him, for he found it necessary to impart motion to that
indolent creature, who, being incapable of assuming any responsibility
whatsoever, allowed others to think, to decide and to act for her,
although she was quite willing to go wherever he chose, when she was
once started. And he relied upon that willingness to enable him to take
her to Hemerlingue's house. But when, after breakfast, Jansoulet, fully
dressed, magnificent, perspiring in his struggles to put on his gloves,
sent to ask if Madame would soon be ready, he was told that Madame was
not going out. It was a serious crisis, so serious that, discarding the
m