hteous
indignation. "I wonder you can suggest such a thing."

Instead, he went to the table and moved a flower-vase which was an
eighth of an inch from the centrepiece farther than its companion on
the other side.

"This is as bad a case as I ever remember," said Foote to himself; and
at the same moment Katherine Petrovitch and Madame Bernstein entered
the room. A somewhat painful surprise was in store for Browne. There
could be no doubt about one thing: Madame Bernstein had dressed herself
with due regard to the importance of the occasion. Her gown was of
bright ruby velvet; her arms were entirely bare; and while her bodice
was supported by the most slender of shoulder-straps, it was cut
considerably lower than most people would have considered compatible
with either her age or her somewhat portly appearance. Round her neck
and studded in her hair were many diamonds, all so palpably false as to
create no suspicion of the means by which she had obtained them. Her
companion's costume, on the other hand, was simplicity itself. She was
attired in black, unrelieved by any touch of colour; a plain band of
velvet encircled her throat, and Browne confessed to himself afterwards
that he had never in his life seen anything more becoming. He
presented Foote to the ladies with due ceremony; and when their places
had been allotted them they sat down to dinner, madame on Browne's
right, Katherine on his left.

Despite the knowledge that the dinner had been prepared by one of the
most admirable _chefs_ in the world, and the fact that Lallemand
himself had given his assurance that everything was satisfactory,
Browne was nevertheless exercised in his mind lest anything should go
wrong. He might have spared himself the anxiety, however, for the
dinner was perfection itself. One other thing troubled him, and that
was that the person he was most anxious to please scarcely touched
anything. But if she did not, Madame Bernstein made ample amends for
her. She allowed no dish to pass her untasted; the connoisseur was
apparent in her appreciation of the wines, while her praise of the
cooking was volubility itself. From what he had seen of her, Browne
had been prepared to dislike her intensely; to his surprise, however,
he discovered that she improved on acquaintance. Seemingly, she had
been everywhere and had seen everything; in her youth she had known
Garibaldi personally, had met Kossuth, and been brought into contact
with