Coffee was brought into the living-room, when they went back, preceded by Mr. Boffin, emanating the dignified satisfaction of a cat who has supped daintily upon chicken and cream. He sat down before the fire and methodically washed his face.
"I believe I envy Mr. Boffin his perfect digestion," remarked Madame, as she sipped her coffee from a Royal Canton cup. She and Rose stood for half an hour after dinner, always.
Isabel finished her coffee and set the cup upon the table. She slipped the Sheffield tray from under the embroidered doily and took it to the light, where she leaned over it, studying the design. Rose thought that the light from the tray was reflected upon the girl's face, she became at once so brilliant, so sparkling.
"Speaking of harmony--" said Madame Bernard, in a low tone, glancing at Rose and inclining her head toward Isabel.
"Yes," replied Isabel, returning the tray to its place; "it is a lovely one, isn't it?"
Madame turned toward the window to hide a smile. Rose followed, and drew the little grey lady into the circle of her strong arm.
"Dear Aunt Francesca!" she said softly. "I thank you so much!"
The older woman patted the hand that wore the ruby, then turned to Isabel. "Come," she said, "and be glad you're indoors."
The three women stood at the wide window, looking out across the snow, lighted only by the stars and a ghostly crescent of moon. The evergreens were huddled closely together as though they kept each other warm. Beyond, the mountains brooded in their eternal sleep, which riving lightnings and vast, reverberating thunders were powerless to change.
Suddenly, across the purple darkness between the pale stars, flamed a meteor--an uncharted voyager through infinite seas of space. It left a trail of fire across the heavens, fading at last into luminous mist, the colour of the stars. When the light had quite died out, Madame Bernard spoke.
"A passing soul," she sighed.
"A kiss," breathed Rose, dreamily.
"Star-dust!" laughed Isabel.