t in them:
their religion's so beautiful." Undine looked thoughtfully at her
visitor. "I suppose even money--a great deal of money--wouldn't make the
least bit of difference?"

"None whatever, except to make matters worse," Madame de Trezac
decisively rejoined. She returned Undine's look with something of Miss
Wincher's contemptuous authority. "But," she added, softening to a
smile, "between ourselves--I can say it, since we're neither of us
children--a woman with tact, who's not in a position to remarry, will
find society extremely indulgent... provided, of course, she keeps up
appearances..."

Undine turned to her with the frown of a startled Diana. "We don't look
at things that way out at Apex," she said coldly; and the blood rose in
Madame de Trezac's sallow cheek.

"Oh, my dear, it's so refreshing to hear you talk like that! Personally,
of course, I've never quite got used to the French view--"

"I hope no American woman ever does," said Undine.

She had been in Paris for about two months when this conversation took
place, and in spite of her reviving self-confidence she was beginning to
recognize the strength of the forces opposed to her. It had taken a long
time to convince her that even money could not prevail against them;
and, in the intervals of expressing her admiration for the Catholic
creed, she now had violent reactions of militant Protestantism, during
which she talked of the tyranny of Rome and recalled school stories of
immoral Popes and persecuting Jesuits.

Meanwhile her demeanour to Chelles was that of the incorruptible but
fearless American woman, who cannot even conceive of love outside of
marriage, but is ready to give her devoted friendship to the man on
whom, in happier circumstances, she might have bestowed her hand. This
attitude was provocative of many scenes, during which her suitor's
unfailing powers of expression--his gift of looking and saying all
the desperate and devoted things a pretty woman likes to think she
inspires--gave Undine the thrilling sense of breathing the very air of
French fiction. But she was aware that too prolonged tension of these
cords usually ends in their snapping, and that Chelles' patience was
probably in inverse ratio to his ardour.

When Madame de Trezac had left her these thoughts remained in her mind.
She understood exactly what each of her new friends wanted of her. The
Princess, who was fond of her cousin, and had the French sense of family
solida