ness to Mme. Dawson, and sat down by
the piano, as far away as possible from the French ladies.

She wore a gown of green silk, with lace and gold ornaments. She was
very decolletee and had a fretful air. Her husband was small and
stooped, with a long moustache and shiny eyes; on his cheek-bones were
the red spots frequent in consumptives, and he spoke in a sharp voice.

"Are you acquainted with the Marquis?" Mme. Dawson asked Caesar.

"Yes, he is a tiresome busybody," said Caesar, "the most boresome fellow
you could find. He stops you in the street to tell you things. The
other day he made me wait a quarter of an hour at the door of a tourist
agency, while he inquired the quickest way of getting to Moscow. 'Are
you thinking of going there?' I asked him. 'No; I just wanted to find
out....' He is an idiot."

"God preserve us from your comments. What will you be saying about us?"
exclaimed Mlle. de Sandoval.

The Countess Brenda entered, with her husband, her daughter, and a
friend. She was dressed in black, low in the neck, and wore a collar of
brilliants as big as filberts, which surrounded her bosom with rays of
light and blinding reflections.

Her friend was a young lady of consummate beauty; a brunette with colour
in her skin and features of flawless perfection; with neither the
serious air nor the statuesqueness of a great beauty, and with none
of the negroid tone of most brunettes. When she smiled she showed her
teeth, which were a burst of whiteness. She was rather loaded with
jewels, which gave her the aspect of an ancient goddess.

"You, who find everything wrong," said Mlle. Cadet to Caesar, "what have
you to say of that woman? I have been looking at her ever since she came
in, and I don't find the slightest defect."

"Nor I. It is a face which gives no indication that the least shadow of
sorrow has ever crossed it. It is beauty as serene as a landscape or as
the sea when calm. Moreover, that very perfection robs it of character.
It seems to be less a human face than a symbol of an apathetic being and
an apathetic beauty."

"We have found her defect," said Mlle. Cadet.

After introducing her friend to the ladies and to the young men, who
were all dazzled, the Countess Brenda sat down near Mme. Dawson, in an
antique arm-chair.

She was imposing.

"You look like a queen holding audience," Mlle. de Sandoval said to her.

"Your beloved is like an actual monument," Mlle. Cadet murmured
jokingly, asid