them; for the table that held umbrellas, parasols and canes suited to
all ages and both sexes, a good, upright little lady had been chosen.
Her only thought was how much money she could make by her sales. Madame
Strahlberg, the oldest of the Odinskas, obviously expected to sell only
to gentlemen; her table held pyramids of cigars and cigarettes, but
nothing else was in the corner where she presided, supple and frail,
not handsome, but far more dangerous than if she had been, with her
unfathomable way of looking at you with her light eyes set deep under
her eyebrows, eyes that she kept half closed, but which were yet so
keen, and the cruel smile that showed her little sharp teeth. Her dress
was of black grenadine embroidered with silver. She wore half mourning
as a sort of announcement that she was a widow, in hopes that this
might put a stop to any wicked gossip which should assert that Count
Strahlberg was still living, having got a divorce and been very glad
to get it. Yet people talked about her, but hardly knew what to bring
against her, because, though anything might be suspected, nothing was
known. She was received and even sought after in the best society, on
account of her wonderful talents, which she employed in a manner as
perverse as everything else about her, but which led some people to call
her the 'Judic des salons'. Wanda Strahlberg was now holding between her
lips, which were artificially red, in contrast to the greenish paleness
of her face, which caused others to call her a vampire, one of the
cigarettes she had for sale. With one hand, she was playing, graceful as
a cat, with her last package of regalias, tied with green ribbon, which,
when offered to the highest bidder, brought an enormous sum. Her sister
Colette was selling flowers, like several other young girls, but while
for the most part these waited on their customers in silence, she was
full of lively talk, and as unblushing in her eagerness to sell as a
'bouquetiere' by profession. She had grown dangerously pretty. Fred was
dazzled when she wanted to fasten a rose into his buttonhole, and then,
as he paid for it, gave him another, saying: "And here is another thrown
in for old acquaintance' sake."

"Charity seems to cover many things," thought the young man as he
withdrew from her smiles and her glances, but yet he had seen nothing so
attractive among the black, yellow, green or tattooed ladies about whom
Jacqueline had been pleased to teas