contemplation of it. Not only did the design and the treatment please
her, but she also felt a kind of maternal affection for the artist:
"This dear Jacques," she murmured, "has decidedly a great deal of
talent, and I like to think that in a short time his reputation...."

Her reflections were interrupted by the servant. The good Antoine
announced in a low voice, and with a touch of respectful reproach in his
tone:

"Monsieur Thomery awaits the Baroness in the small drawing-room: he has
been waiting ten minutes."

"Very well. I am coming."

Madame de Vibray, whose movements were all harmonious grace, returned by
way of the gallery to greet her guest. She paused on the threshold of
the small drawing-room, smiling graciously.

Framed in the dark drapery of the heavy door-curtains, the soft light
from globes of ground glass falling on her, the Baroness de Vibray
appeared a very attractive woman still. Her figure had retained its
youthful slenderness, her neck, white as milk, was as round and fresh as
a girl's; and had the hair about her forehead and temples not been
turning grey--the Baroness wore it powdered, a piece of coquettish
affection on her part--she would not have looked a day more than thirty.

Monsieur Thomery rose hastily, and advanced to meet her. He kissed her
hand with a gallant air:

"My dear Mathilde," he declared with an admiring glance, "you are
decidedly an exquisite woman!"

The Baroness replied by a glance, in which there was something
ambiguous, something of ironical mockery:

"How are you, Norbert?" she asked in an affectionate tone.... "And those
pains?"

They seated themselves on a low couch, and began to discuss their
respective aches and pains in friendly fashion. Whilst listening to his
complaints, Madame de Vibray could not but admire his remarkable vigour,
his air of superb health: his looks gave the lie to his words.

About fifty-five, Monsieur Norbert Thomery seemed to be in the plenitude
of his powers; his premature baldness was redeemed by the vivacity of
his dark brown eyes, also by his long, thick moustache, probably dyed.
He looked like an old soldier. He was the last of the great Thomery
family who, for many generations, had been sugar refiners. His was a
personality well known in Parisian Society; always first at his office
or his factories, as soon as night fell he became the man of the world,
frequenting fashionable drawing-rooms, theatrical first-nights, official
r