ght to the tragedy enacted at Neuilly, she inquired:

"Did your mother say anything to you?"

"No."

"Yet she must have known."

"It is probable."

"Are you on good terms with her?"

"Why, yes!"

"They say she is still very beautiful, your mother, is it so?"

He did not answer her and sought to change the conversation. He did not
like Felicie to speak to him of his mother, or to turn her attention to
his family. Monsieur and Madame de Ligny enjoyed the highest
consideration in Parisian society. Monsieur de Ligny, a diplomatist by
birth and by profession, was in himself a person worthy of the greatest
consideration. He was so even before his birth, by virtue of the
diplomatic services which his ancestors had rendered to France. His
great-grandfather had signed the surrender of Pondicherry to England.
Madame de Ligny lived with her husband on the most correct terms. But,
although she had no money of her own, she lived in great style, and her
gowns were one of the greatest glories of France. She received intimate
visits from an ex-Ambassador. His age, his position, his opinions, his
titles, and his great fortune made the connection respectable. Madame de
Ligny kept the ladies of the Republic at arm's length, and, when the
spirit moved her, gave them lessons in decorum. She had nothing to fear
from the opinion of the fashionable world. Robert knew that she was
looked upon with respect by people in society. But he was continually
dreading that, in speaking of her, Felicie might fail to do so with all
the needful reserve. He feared lest, not being in society, she might say
that which had better have been left unsaid. He was wrong; Felicie knew
nothing of the private life of Madame de Ligny; moreover, had she known
of it, she would not have blamed her. The lady inspired her with a naive
curiosity and an admiration mingled with fear. Since her lover was
unwilling to speak to her of his mother, she attributed his reserve to a
certain aristocratic arrogance, even to a lack of consideration, for
her, at which the pride of the freewoman and the plebeian was up in
arms. She was wont to say to him tartly:

"I'm perfectly free to speak of your mother." The first time she had
added: "Mine is just as good as yours." But she had realized that the
remark was vulgar, and she had not repeated it.

The dining-room was now empty. She looked at her watch, and saw that it
was three o'clock.

"I must be off," she said. "_La Grille_