here, and of
parents whom I doubt whether she herself could name, seeming to hail
from the borderland of Italy and France, a daughter of the Riviera, she
had strayed and tumbled through a youth of which she would speak in
moments of expansion. I, however, need say nothing of it. When I saw her
first she was playing a small part in a light opera at Forstadt. A few
weeks later she had assumed leading _roles_, and was the idol of the
young men. She was then about twenty-three, tall, dark, of full figure,
doomed to a brevity of beauty, but at the moment magnificence itself.
Every intellectual gift she appeared to lack, except a strangely
persistent resolution of purpose and an admirably lucid conception of
her own interest. She was not in the least brilliant or even amusing in
general conversation. She worshipped her own beauty; she owed to it all
she was, and paid the debt with a defiant assertion of its supremacy.
None could contradict her. She was very lazy as regards physical
exertion, extremely fond of eating and drinking, a careful manager of
her money. All this sounds, and was, very unattractive. On the other
side of the account may be put a certain simplicity, an indolent
kindness, a desire to make folks comfortable, and (what I liked most) a
mental honesty which caused her to assess both herself and other people
with a nearness to her and their real value that was at times absolutely
startling. It seemed as though a person, otherwise neither clever nor of
signally high character, had been gifted with a _clairvoyance_ which
allowed her to read hearts, and a relentless fine sincerity that forced
her to declare what she read to all who cared to listen to her. Whatever
she did or did not in that queer life of hers, she never flattered man
or woman, and fashioned no false image of herself.

William Adolphus made her the rage, so strangely things fall out. He
went five nights running to see her. Next week came a new piece, with
Coralie in the chief part. My brother-in-law had sent for her to his
box. He was a Prince, a great man, exalted, of what seemed boundless
wealth. Coralie was languidly polite. William Adolphus' broad face must
have worn a luxurious smile. He did Coralie the honour of calling on her
at her pretty villa, where she lived with her aunt-in-law (oddly
selected relationship!), Madame Briande. He was received with
acquiescence; enthusiasm was not among Coralie's accomplishments.
However, she lazily drawle