ays happens with just
natures, the sudden change of his mind was the more favorable as his
first opinion had been unjust.

Such was the theme of his reflections on the route from the Hotel de
Montgeron to that of Eugenic Gontie's, with whom he was engaged to
dine with some of her friends, invited to celebrate her success of the
evening before.

On entering her dining-room Eugenie took the arm of Lenaieff, placed
Henri de Prerolles on her left and Samoreau opposite her--in his
character of senior member, so that no one could mistake his transitory
function with that of an accredited master of the house.

The four other guests were distinguished writers or artists, including
the painter Edmond Delorme, and, like him, all were intimate friends of
the mistress of the house.

Naturally the conversation turned upon the representation of Adrienne,
and on the applause of the fashionable audience, usually rather
undemonstrative.

"Never have I received so many flowers as were given to me last night,"
said Eugenic, displaying an enormous beribboned basket which ornamented
the table. "But that which particularly flattered me," she added, "was
the spontaneous tribute from that pretty foreigner who sought me in the
greenroom expressly to offer me her bouquet."

"The young lady in the proscenium box, I will wager," said Lenaieff.

"Precisely. I know that they call her Zibeline, but I did not catch her
real name."

"It is Mademoiselle de Vermont," said Edmond Delorme. "She is, in my
opinion, the most dashing of all the Amazons in the Bois de Boulogne.
The Chevalier de Sainte-Foy brought her to visit my studio last autumn,
and I am making a life-size portrait of her on her famous horse, Seaman,
the winner of the great steeplechase at Liverpool, in 1882."

"What were you pencilling on the back of your menu while you were
talking?" asked the actress, curiously.

"The profile of General de Prerolles," the painter replied. "I think
that his mare Aida would make a capital companion picture for Seaman,
and that he himself would be an appropriate figure to adorn a canvas
hung on the line opposite her at the next Salon!"

"Pardon me, dear master!" interrupted the General. "Spare me, I pray,
the honor of figuring in this equestrian contradance. I have not the
means to bequeath to posterity that your fair model possesses--"

"Is she, then, as rich as they say?" inquired one of the guests.

"I can answer for that," said the Baron