heard it was an English or American!"

"Surely, not so bad as that!"

"But only those who have money;--or, if they have not the money, our
sons and our brothers do not marry them."

"Good!" and Lavergne nodded with mock sagacity. "We reach conclusions;
the newly made Marquise de Caron is either not Anglo-Saxon or was not
without wealth."

"I heard from Dumaresque that she had attended English schools; that
no doubt gives her the English suggestion."

"Oh, I know more than that;" said another, eager to add to the
knowledge of the group. "Between Fontainbleau and Moret is the Levigne
chateau. Two years ago the dowager was there with a young beauty,
Judithe Levigne, and that is the girl Alain married; the dowager was
also a Levigne, and the girl an adopted daughter."

"What is she like now? Has no one seen her?"

"No one more worldly than her confessor--if she possess one, or the
nuns of the convent to which she returned to study after her marriage
and widowhood."

"Heavens! We must compose our features when we enter the presence!"

"But we will go, for all that! The dowager is too delightful to
miss."

"A religieuse and a blue stocking!" and the smile of Lavergne was
accompanied by a doubtful shrug. "I might devote myself to either, if
apart, but never to both in one. Is she then ugly that she dare be so
superior?"

"Greek and Latin did not lessen the charm of Heloise for Abelard,
Monsieur."

Sidonie glanced consciously out of the window. Even the dust of six
centuries refuses to cover the passion of Heloise, and despite the
ecclesiastical flavor of the romance--demoiselles were not supposed to
be aware--still--!

Lavergne beckoned to a fair slight man near the piano.

"We will ask Loris--Loris Dumaresque. He is god-son of the dowager. He
was in Rome also. He will know."

"Certainly;" and Madame Choudey glanced in the mirror opposite and
leaned her cheek on her jeweled hand, the lace fell from her pretty
wrist and the effect was rather pleasing. "Loris; ah, pardon me, since
your last canvas is the talk of Paris we must perhaps say Monsieur
Dumaresque, or else--Master."

"The queen calls no man master," replied the newcomer as he bent over
the pretty coquette's hand. "The humblest of your subjects salutes
you."

"My faith! You have not lost in Rome a single charm of the boulevardes.
We feared you would come back a devotee, and addicted to rosaries."

"I only needed them when departing from Paris--