"I am afraid you really are ill," continued the Marquis de Merrivale.
"Something has disagreed with you; it must have been the truffles with
which that pheasant we had for _dejeuner_ was stuffed. I toyed with them
very timidly myself."

"Pray sit down, my dear Mademoiselle de Merrivale," said Madame de
Fleury, leading her to a chair which stood near. "Sit down while I order
you a glass of water."

She turned to address a servant, but Bertha stretched out her hand,
almost as though she feared to lose sight of her. "Don't go! Don't go!
Let me look! Can they be hers? Let me look again!"

Madame de Fleury, as unruffled as though these broken exclamations were
perfectly natural and comprehensible, bent over Bertha caressingly,
laying the tips of her delicately gloved fingers on her shoulder. Bertha
wistfully examined the bracelet on the lady's arm, then fixed her eyes
upon the necklace, brooch, and ear-rings, and lastly upon the tiara-like
comb, about which the hair of the marchioness was arranged in a
dexterous and novel manner.

Madame de Fleury was gratified, without being moved by the faintest
surprise that her toilet had produced such an overpowering sensation.
Bertha's emotion did not appear to her in the least misplaced or
exaggerated.

"You admire this set of diamonds and emeralds very much, then?" she
asked, complacently.

"The _fleur-de-lis_ and shamrock," faltered Bertha, "where--where did
they come from?"

Interpreting the unceremonious abruptness and singularity of the
question into a spontaneous tribute paid to her costly ornaments, the
marchioness graciously answered,--

"This _parure_ was a delicate attention from M. de Fleury. Not long
after he presented these diamonds to me, by a very strange coincidence
Vignon sent this dress for my approval. You observe how dexterously the
device of the necklace is imitated. Can anything be more perfect than
these lilies and shamrock leaves?"

Bertha hastily glanced at the rich white silk robe, trimmed with
_revers_ of pale violet, upon which the lilies and shamrock were
embroidered with some species of lustrous thread, which counterfeited
not only the design but the sparkle of the gems. The marchioness went
on,--

"Was it not odd that Vignon, famed as she is for novelties, should have
chanced upon a dress which so exactly matched my new set? It quite makes
me a convert to the science of animal magnetism. My mind, you see, was
_en rapport_ with hers. Inde