on the whole room was talking
it, with an advantage to Julie Le Breton which quickly made itself
apparent. In English she was a link, a social conjunction; she eased all
difficulties, she pieced all threads. But in French her tongue was
loosened, though never beyond the point of grace, the point of delicate
adjustment to the talkers round her.

So that presently, and by insensible gradations, she was the queen of
the room. The Duchess in ecstasy pinched Jacob Delafield's wrist, and
forgetting all that she ought to have remembered, whispered,
rapturously, in his ear, "Isn't she enchanting--Julie--to-night?" That
gentleman made no answer. The Duchess, remembering, shrank back, and
spoke no more, till Jacob looked round upon her with a friendly smile
which set her tongue free again.

M. du Bartas, meanwhile, began to consider this lady in black with more
and more attention. The talk glided into a general discussion of the
Egyptian position. Those were the days before Arabi, when elements of
danger and of doubt abounded, and none knew what a month might bring
forth. With perfect tact Julie guided the conversation, so that all
difficulties, whether for the French official or the English statesman,
were avoided with a skill that no one realized till each separate rock
was safely passed. Presently Montresor looked from her to Du Bartas with
a grin. The Frenchman's eyes were round with astonishment. Julie had
been saying the lightest but the wisest things; she had been touching
incidents and personalities known only to the initiated with a
restrained gayety which often broke down into a charming shyness, which
was ready to be scared away in a moment by a tone--too serious or too
polemical--which jarred with the general key of the conversation, which
never imposed itself, and was like the ripple on a summer sea. But the
summer sea has its depths, and this modest gayety was the mark of an
intimate and first-hand knowledge.

"Ah, I see," thought Montresor, amused. "P---- has been writing to her,
the little minx. He seems to have been telling her all the secrets. I
think I'll stop it. Even she mayn't quite understand what should and
shouldn't be said before this gentleman."

So he gave the conversation a turn, and Mademoiselle Le Breton took the
hint at once. She called others to the front--it was like a change of
dancers in the ballet--while she rested, no less charming as a listener
than as a talker, her black eyes turning fr