trying to snub Lady Blakeney will not harm her, but will make you look a
fool. Isn't that so, my Lord?"

But what Lord Grenville thought of this matter, or to what reflections
this comely tirade of Lady Portarles led the Comtesse de Tournay,
remained unspoken, for the curtain had just risen on the third act of
ORPHEUS, and admonishments to silence came from every part of the house.

Lord Grenville took a hasty farewell of the ladies and slipped back into
his box, where M. Chauvelin had sat through this ENTR'ACTE, with his
eternal snuff-box in his hand, and with his keen pale eyes intently
fixed upon a box opposite him, where, with much frou-frou of silken
skirts, much laughter and general stir of curiosity amongst the
audience, Marguerite Blakeney had just entered, accompanied by her
husband, and looking divinely pretty beneath the wealth of her golden,
reddish curls, slightly besprinkled with powder, and tied back at the
nape of her graceful neck with a gigantic black bow. Always dressed in
the very latest vagary of fashion, Marguerite alone among the ladies
that night had discarded the crossover fichu and broad-lapelled
over-dress, which had been in fashion for the last two or three years.
She wore the short-waisted classical-shaped gown, which so soon was
to become the approved mode in every country in Europe. It suited her
graceful, regal figure to perfection, composed as it was of shimmering
stuff which seemed a mass of rich gold embroidery.

As she entered, she leant for a moment out of the box, taking stock of
all those present whom she knew. Many bowed to her as she did so, and
from the royal box there came also a quick and gracious salute.

Chauvelin watched her intently all through the commencement of the third
act, as she sat enthralled with the music, her exquisite little hand
toying with a small jewelled fan, her regal head, her throat, arms and
neck covered with magnificent diamonds and rare gems, the gift of the
adoring husband who sprawled leisurely by her side.

Marguerite was passionately fond of music. ORPHEUS charmed her to-night.
The very joy of living was writ plainly upon the sweet young face, it
sparkled out of the merry blue eyes and lit up the smile that lurked
around the lips. She was after all but five-and-twenty, in the hey day
of youth, the darling of a brilliant throng, adored, FETED, petted,
cherished. Two days ago the DAY DREAM had returned from Calais, bringing
her news that her i