Mrs. Highcamp hung with languid but unaffected interest upon the warm

and impetuous volubility of her left-hand neighbor, Victor Lebrun.

Her attention was never for a moment withdrawn from him after seating

herself at table; and when he turned to Mrs. Merriman, who was prettier

and more vivacious than Mrs. Highcamp, she waited with easy indifference

for an opportunity to reclaim his attention. There was the occasional

sound of music, of mandolins, sufficiently removed to be an agreeable

accompaniment rather than an interruption to the conversation. Outside

the soft, monotonous splash of a fountain could be heard; the sound

penetrated into the room with the heavy odor of jessamine that came

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through the open windows.

The golden shimmer of Edna's satin gown spread in rich folds on either

side of her. There was a soft fall of lace encircling her shoulders.

It was the color of her skin, without the glow, the myriad living tints

that one may sometimes discover in vibrant flesh. There was something in

her attitude, in her whole appearance when she leaned her head against

the high-backed chair and spread her arms, which suggested the regal

woman, the one who rules, who looks on, who stands alone.

But as she sat there amid her guests, she felt the old ennui overtaking

her; the hopelessness which so often assailed her, which came upon her

like an obsession, like something extraneous, independent of volition.

It was something which announced itself; a chill breath that seemed to

issue from some vast cavern wherein discords waited. There came over her

the acute longing which always summoned into her spiritual vision the

presence of the beloved one, overpowering her at once with a sense of

the unattainable.

The moments glided on, while a feeling of good fellowship passed around

the circle like a mystic cord, holding and binding these people together

with jest and laughter. Monsieur Ratignolle was the first to break the

pleasant charm. At ten o'clock he excused himself. Madame Ratignolle

was waiting for him at home. She was bien souffrante, and she was filled

with vague dread, which only her husband's presence could allay.

Mademoiselle Reisz arose with Monsieur Ratignolle, who offered to escort

her to the car. She had eaten well; she had tasted the good, rich wines,

and they must have turned her head, for she bowed pleasantly to all

as she withdrew from table. She kissed Edna upon the shoulder, and

whispered: "Bonne nuit, ma reine; soyez sage." She had been a little

bewildered upon rising, or rather, descending from her cushions, and

Monsieur Ratignolle gallantly took her arm and led her away.

Mrs. Highcamp was weaving a garland of roses, yellow and red. When she

had finished the garland, she laid it lightly upon Victor's black curls.

He was reclining far back in the luxurious chair, holding a glass of

champagne to the light.




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