people began to come; amongst them her old music-master, Monsieur
Harmost, grey and mahogany as ever, who, after a "Merveilleux," "Tres
fort" or two to Fiorsen, turned his back on him to talk to his old
pupil.

So she had married Fiorsen--dear, dear! That was extraordinary, but
extraordinary! And what was it like, to be always with him--a little
funny--not so? And how was her music? It would be spoiled now. Ah, what
a pity! No? She must come to him, then; yes, come again. All the time he
patted her arm, as if playing the piano, and his fingers, that had the
touch of an angel, felt the firmness of her flesh, as though debating
whether she were letting it deteriorate. He seemed really to have missed
"his little friend," to be glad at seeing her again; and Gyp, who never
could withstand appreciation, smiled at him. More people came. She saw
Rosek talking to her husband, and the young alabaster girl standing
silent, her lips still a little parted, gazing up at Fiorsen. A perfect
figure, though rather short; a dovelike face, whose exquisitely shaped,
just-opened lips seemed to be demanding sugar-plums. She could not be
more than nineteen. Who was she?

A voice said almost in her ear:

"How do you do, Mrs. Fiorsen? I am fortunate to see you again at last."

She was obliged to turn. If Gustav had given her away, one would never
know it from this velvet-masked creature, with his suave watchfulness
and ready composure, who talked away so smoothly. What was it that she
so disliked in him? Gyp had acute instincts, the natural intelligence
deep in certain natures not over intellectual, but whose "feelers" are
too delicate to be deceived. And, for something to say, she asked:

"Who is the girl you were talking to, Count Rosek? Her face is so
lovely."

He smiled, exactly the smile she had so disliked at Wiesbaden; following
his glance, she saw her husband talking to the girl, whose lips at that
moment seemed more than ever to ask for sugar-plums.

"A young dancer, Daphne Wing--she will make a name. A dove flying! So
you admire her, Madame Gyp?"

Gyp said, smiling:

"She's very pretty--I can imagine her dancing beautifully."

"Will you come one day and see her? She has still to make her debut."

Gyp answered:

"Thank you. I don't know. I love dancing, of course."

"Good! I will arrange it."

And Gyp thought: "No, no! I don't want to have anything to do with you!
Why do I not speak the truth? Why didn't I say I hate da