ris? But in that case isn't it quite simple--?"

"To find him? I daresay it won't be difficult, though he is rather
mysterious. But the point is that I can't go to him--and that if I
write to him he won't answer."

"Ah," said Garnett thoughtfully.

"And so you've got to find him for me, and tell him."

"Tell him what?"

"That he must come to the wedding--that we must show ourselves together
at church and at the breakfast."

She delivered the behest in her sharp imperative key, the tone of the
born commander. But for once Garnett ventured to question her orders.

"And supposing he won't come?"

"He must if he cares for his daughter's happiness. She can't be married
without him."

"Can't be married?"

"The French are like that--especially the old families. I was given to
understand at once that my husband must appear--if only to establish
the fact that we're not divorced."

"Ah--you're _not_, then?" escaped from Garnett.

"Mercy, no! Divorce is stupid. They don't like it in Europe. And in
this case it would have been the end of Hermy's marriage. They wouldn't
think of letting their son marry the child of divorced parents."

"How fortunate, then--"

"Yes; but I always think of such things beforehand. And of course I've
told them that my husband will be present."

"You think he will consent?"

"No; not at first; but you must make him. You must tell him how sweet
Hermione is--and you must see Louis, and be able to describe their
happiness. You must dine here to-night--he is coming. We're all dining
with the Hubbards, and they expect you. They have given Hermy some very
good diamonds--though I should have preferred a cheque, as she'll be
horribly poor. But I think Kate Hubbard means to do something about the
trousseau--Hermy is at Paquin's with her now. You've no idea how
delightful all our friends have been.--Ah, here is one of them now,"
she broke off smiling, as the door opened to admit, without preliminary
announcement, a gentleman so glossy and ancient, with such a fixed
unnatural freshness of smile and eye, that he gave Garnett the effect
of having been embalmed and then enamelled. It needed not the
exotic-looking ribbon in the visitor's button-hole, nor Mrs. Newell's
introduction of him as her friend Baron Schenkelderff, to assure
Garnett of his connection with a race as ancient as his appearance.

Baron Schenkelderff greeted his hostess with paternal playfulness, and
the young man with an ease wh