ntoinette.

"The same ejaculation," I murmured, "was doubtless uttered by an
enraptured waiting-maid, when she beheld the stout linen smocks of the
ladies of the Heptameron."

I reflected on the relativity of things mundane. The waiting-maid no
doubt wore some horror made of hemp against her skin. If Carlotta's
gossamer follies had been thrown into the vagabond court of the Queen
of Navarre, I wonder whether those delectable stories would have been
written?

As Antoinette does not understand literary English, and as Carlotta
did not know what in the world I was talking about, I was master of the
conversational situation. Carlotta went to the mantel-piece and returned
with a glutinous mass of sweet stuff between her fingers.

"Will Seer Marcous have some? It is nougat." I declined. "Oh!" she said,
tragically disappointed. "It is good."

There is something in that silly creature's eyes that I cannot resist.
She put the abominable morsel into my mouth--it was far too sticky for
me to hold--and laughingly licked her own fingers.

I went down to work again with an uneasy feeling of imperilled dignity.

May 29th.

I sent her word that I would take her for a drive this afternoon. She
was to be ready at three o'clock. It will be wholesome for her to regard
her outings with me as rare occurrences to be highly valued. Ordinarily
she will go out with Antoinette--for the present at least--as she did
yesterday.

At three o'clock Stenson informed me that the cab was at the door.

"Go up and call Mademoiselle," said I.

In two or three minutes she came down. I have not had such a shock in my
life. I uttered exclamations of amazement in several languages. I have
never seen on the stage or off such a figure as she presented. Her
cheeks were white with powder, her lips dyed a pomegranate scarlet, her
eyebrows and lashes blackened. In her ears she wore large silver-gilt
earrings. She entered the room with an air of triumph, as who should
say: "See how captivatingly beautiful I am!"

At my stare of horror her face fell. At my command to go upstairs and
wash herself clean, she wept.

"For heaven's sake, don't cry," I exclaimed, "or you will look like a
rainbow."

"I did it to please you," she sobbed.

"It is only the lowest class of dancing-women who paint their faces in
England," said I, _splendide mendax._ "And you know what they are in
Alexandretta."

"They came to Aziza-Zaza's wedding," said Carlotta, behind her