ull, were slightly mocking and somewhat sensuous;
the waist, which was supple and yet not fragile, had no terrors for
maternity, like those of girls who seek beauty by the fatal pressure of
a corset. Steel and dimity and lacings defined but did not create the
serpentine lines of the elegant figure, graceful as that of a young
poplar swaying in the wind.

A pearl-gray dress with crimson trimmings, made with a long waist,
modestly outlined the bust and covered the shoulders, still rather thin,
with a chemisette which left nothing to view but the first curves of
the throat where it joined the shoulders. From the aspect of the young
girl's face, at once ethereal and intelligent, where the delicacy of a
Greek nose with its rosy nostrils and firm modelling marked something
positive and defined; where the poetry enthroned upon an almost mystic
brow seemed belied at times by the pleasure-loving expression of the
mouth; where candor claimed the depths profound and varied of the
eye, and disputed them with a spirit of irony that was trained and
educated,--from all these signs an observer would have felt that this
young girl, with the keen, alert ear that waked at every sound, with
a nostril open to catch the fragrance of the celestial flower of the
Ideal, was destined to be the battle-ground of a struggle between
the poesies of the dawn and the labors of the day; between fancy
and reality, the spirit and the life. Modeste was a pure young girl,
inquisitive after knowledge, understanding her destiny, and filled with
chastity,--the Virgin of Spain rather than the Madonna of Raphael.

She raised her head when she heard Dumay say to Exupere, "Come here,
young man." Seeing them together in the corner of the salon she supposed
they were talking of some commission in Paris. Then she looked at
the friends who surrounded her, as if surprised by their silence, and
exclaimed in her natural manner, "Why are you not playing?"--with a
glance at the green table which the imposing Madame Latournelle called
the "altar."

"Yes, let us play," said Dumay, having sent off Exupere.

"Sit there, Butscha," said Madame Latournelle, separating the head-clerk
from the group around Madame Mignon and her daughter by the whole width
of the table.

"And you, come over here," said Dumay to his wife, making her sit close
by him.

Madame Dumay, a little American about thirty-six years of age, wiped her
eyes furtively; she adored Modeste, and feared a catas