he thousandth
time, gay words were spoken, smiles and bows were rapidly dispensed
with cheerful grace. She was quite equal to the situation! The large,
checked travelling dress, the light hat with the veil now hanging down
from it, now floating in the wind, the haughty poise of the head, the
perfect figure, all this stood in the sunshine of the homage round her.
Surely it was into a golden carriage drawn by white doves that she was
stepping? For the moment, it was no farther than to her mother's side
at the open carriage-door, whence she smiled down to the colonel on one
side, the general on the other, the ladies round them. Farther back
still her eyes fell on all the uplifted moustaches, the light ones, the
brown, the black, the dyed, the thin moustaches, the thick, the curved,
and the inane, the drooping, the smartly curled. Among that melancholy
and shaggy crowd a few clean-shaven faces looked like those of Swedish
tenors.

"I hope you will have a pleasant journey," said the old general. The
gallant horseman was too discreet to try to say anything more marked.
"Thank you for the pleasure you have given us this winter, my girl!" It
was the colonel's shrill voice. The bystanders should see what a
fatherly comrade he could be. "Yes, I've often pitied you this winter,
uncle," was the answer he received. "Now you must have a thorough rest
in the summer!"

The colonel's wife laughed. It was the signal that all the rest must
laugh.

The faces turned up towards her--most of them honest, good-natured,
cheerful--almost every one of them reminded her of some amusing moment;
an autumn and winter of riding-parties, skating, snow-shoeing, drives,
balls, dinners, concerts; a wild dance over shining ice and drifting
snow, or through a sea of light and music mingled with the ring of
glasses, with laughter and animated talk. Not one of her recollections
had anything unpleasant about it. All stood out clear, brilliant as a
parade of cavalry. A few proposals, amongst others some initiated by
her worthy uncle, had vanished like a crowd of motes. She felt a
grateful happiness for what she had experienced, for every one's
goodness, till the very last moment. It overwhelmed her, it sparkled in
her eyes, it shone in her eager manner, it was communicated to all
those who stood beneath, and to the very flowers she held. But a
feeling of having received too much, far too much, was there the whole
time. Through it all a dread of future empti