."

Definitely, now, the light of mockery shone in her eye. In evading her,
in refusing to be drawn within her magic circle, he had aroused an irony
that matched his own. She was not the mere phrase-making woman; by no
means the mere siren. "How afraid you English are of your ideals," she
said. "You live by them, but you will not look at them. I could say to
you--as Statius to Virgil in the Purgatorio--that you carry your light
behind you so that you light those who follow, but walk yourselves in
darkness. You will not claim them; no, and above all, you will not talk
about them. Do not be afraid, my young friend; I shall not tamper with
your soul." So she spoke, sweetly, deliberately, yet tersely, too, as
though to make him feel that she had done all she could for him and that
he had proved himself not worth her trouble. Mr. Claude Drew was still
on her other hand, carrying on an obviously desultory conversation with
Miss Scrotton, and to him Madame von Marwitz turned, saying: "And what
is it you wished to tell me of your Carducci? You will send me the
proofs? Good. Oh, I shall not be too tired to read what you have
written."

Here was a young man, evidently, who was worth her trouble. Gregory sat
disposed of and a good deal discomposed, the more so since he had to own
that he had opened himself to the rebuff. He rose and moved away,
looking about and seeing that Miss Woodruff had left the room; but Mrs.
Forrester came to him, her brilliant little face somewhat clouded.

"What is it, my dear Gregory?" she questioned. "She asked to have you
brought. Haven't you pleased her?"

Mrs. Forrester, who had known not only himself, but his father in
boyhood, was fond of him, but was not disposed to think of him as
important. And she expected the unimportant to know, in a sense, their
place and to show the important that they did know it. There was a hint,
now, of severity, in her countenance.

It would sound, he knew, merely boyish and sulky to say: "She hasn't
pleased me." But he couldn't resist: "I wasn't _a la hauteur_."

Mrs. Forrester, at this, looked at him hard for a moment. She then
diagnosed his case as, one of bad temper rather than of malice, and
could forgive it in one who had failed to interest the great woman and
been discarded in consequence; Mercedes, she knew, could discard with
decision.

"Well, when you talk to a woman like Madame von Marwitz, you must try to
be worthy of your opportunities," she commen