ll colours the little body, with the white face, the
shining eyes, the clenched hand, was flung, poised, sustained by its
very force and will.

Nothing in the world could be so fierce as that determined absence of
ferocity, nothing so energetic as that negation of all energy, nothing
so proud as that contemptuous rejection of all that had to do with
pride.

It was as though she had said: "They shall see nothing of me, these
people. I will give them nothing" ... and then the green jade on her
bosom had betrayed her.

Maliciously the dragons grinned behind her back.

III

Arkwright, as he watched, was conscious suddenly of an overwhelming
curiosity. He had in earlier days seen her portrait, and always it had
been interesting, suggestive, provocative; but now, as he stood there,
he was aware that something quite definite, something uncomfortably
disconcerting had occurred; life absurdly seemed to warn him that he
must prepare for some new development.

The Duchess had, he was aware, taken notice of him for the first time.

Little Felix Brun watched Arkwright with interest. They were, at that
moment, the only persons in the room, and it was as though they had
begged for a private interview and had been granted it. The other
portraits of the exhibition had vanished into the mild May afternoon.

"She doesn't like us," Brun said, laughing. "She'd turn the dragons on
to us if she could."

"It's wonderful." Arkwright moved back a little. "Young Ross has done it
this time. No other portrait has ever given one the least idea of her.
She _must_ be that."

Brun stood regarding her. "There'll never be anything like her again. As
far as your England is concerned she's the very, very last, and when she
goes a heap of things will go with her. There'll be other Principalities
and Powers, but never _that_ Power."

"She's asked us to come," said Arkwright, "or, at any rate, asked _me_.
I wonder what she wants."

"She's only asked you," said Brun, "to tell you how she hates you. And
doesn't she, my word!"

There were voices behind him; Brun turned, and Arkwright heard him
exclaim beneath his breath. Then in a moment the little man was received
with: "Why, Mr. Brun! How fortunate! We've come to see my mother's
portrait."

Arkwright caught these words, and knew that the lady standing there must
be Lady Adela Beaminster, the Duchess's only daughter. He had never seen
Lady Adela before, but it amused him now that she should