prophesied at the hotel in New York that his hostess would give up
introducing people. It was a friendly, easy little family repast, as she
had said it would be, with just a marquise and a secretary of
embassy--Raymond ended by guessing that the stranger was a secretary of
embassy--thrown in. So far from interfering with the family tone Madame
de Brives directly contributed to it. She eminently justified the
affection in which she was held in the house; she was in the highest
degree sociable and sympathetic, and at the same time witty (there was
no insipidity in Madame de Brives), and was the cause of Raymond's
making the reflection--as he had made it often in his earlier
years--that an agreeable Frenchwoman is a triumph of civilisation. This
did not prevent him from giving the Marquise no more than half of his
attention; the rest was dedicated to Dora, who, on her side, though in
common with Effie and Mademoiselle Bourde she bent a frequent,
interested gaze on the splendid French lady, very often met our young
man's eyes with mute, vague but, to his sense, none the less valuable
intimations. It was as if she knew what was going on in his mind (it is
true that he scarcely knew it himself), and might be trusted to clear
things up at some convenient hour.

Madame de Brives talked across Raymond, in excellent English, to Cousin
Maria, but this did not prevent her from being gracious, even
encouraging, to the young man, who was a little afraid of her and
thought her a delightful creature. She asked him more questions about
himself than any of them had done. Her conversation with Mrs. Temperly
was of an intimate, domestic order, and full of social, personal
allusions, which Raymond was unable to follow. It appeared to be
concerned considerably with the private affairs of the old French
_noblesse_, into whose councils--to judge by the tone of the
Marquise--Cousin Maria had been admitted by acclamation. Every now and
then Madame de Brives broke into French, and it was in this tongue that
she uttered an apostrophe to her hostess: 'Oh, you, _ma toute-bonne_,
you who have the genius of good sense!' And she appealed to Raymond to
know if his Cousin Maria had not the genius of good sense--the wisdom of
the ages. The old lady did not defend herself from the compliment; she
let it pass, with her motherly, tolerant smile; nor did Raymond attempt
to defend her, for he felt the justice of his neighbour's description:
Cousin Maria's goo