d; and then
she sighed, and then she flew to her easel, or buried herself in some
sublime cantata of her favourite master, Beethoven. Then came the most
wonderful performance of the whole day, and that was the letter, never
missed, to Adriana. Considering that she lived in solitude, and in
a spot with which her daughter was quite familiar, it was really
marvellous that the mother should every day be able to fill so many
interesting and impassioned pages. But Mrs. Neuchatel was a fine
penwoman; her feelings were her facts, and her ingenious observations
of art and nature were her news. After the first fever of separation,
reading was always a resource to her, for she was a great student. She
was surrounded by all the literary journals and choice publications of
Europe, and there scarcely was a branch of science and learning with
which she was not sufficiently familiar to be able to comprehend the
stir and progress of the European mind. Mrs. Neuchatel had contrived
to get rid of the chief cook by sending him on a visit to Paris, so
she could, without cavil, dine off a cutlet and seltzer-water in her
boudoir. Sometimes, not merely for distraction, but more from a sense of
duty, she gave festivals to her schools; and when she had lived like a
princely prisoner of state alone for a month, or rather like one on a
desert isle who sighs to see a sail, she would ask a great geologist and
his wife to pay her a visit, or some professor, who, though himself
not worth a shilling, had some new plans, which really sounded quite
practical, for the more equal distribution of wealth.

"And who is your knight?" said Endymion.

Adriana looked distressed.

"I mean, whom do you wish to win?"

"Oh, I should like them all to win!"

"That is good-natured, but then there would be no distinction. I know
who is going to wear your colours--the Knight of the Dolphin."

"I hope nothing of that kind will happen," said Adriana, agitated. "I
know that some of the knights are going to wear ladies' colours, but I
trust no one will think of wearing mine. I know the Black Knight wears
Lady Montfort's."

"He cannot," said Endymion hastily. "She is first lady to the Queen of
Beauty; no knight can wear the colours of the Queen. I asked Sir Morte
d'Arthur himself, and he told me there was no doubt about it, and that
he had consulted Garter before he came down."

"Well, all I know is that the Count of Ferroll told me so," said
Adriana; "I sate next to