with diamonds that looked like
drops of water on the dark women, glittering reflections on the fair,
and the same heady perfume, the same confused and gentle hum, compact
of vibrant warmth and intangible wings, which, in summer, caresses a
garden-bed through all its flowering time. Now and then a little laugh,
rising into this luminous atmosphere, a quicker inspiration in the air,
which would cause aigrettes and curls to tremble, a handsome profile to
stand out suddenly. Such was the aspect of the drawing-room.

A few men were present, a very small number, however, and all of them
personages of note, laden with years and decorations. They were standing
about near couches, leaning over the backs of chairs, with that air of
condescension which men assume when speaking to children. But in the
peaceful buzz of these conversations, one voice rang out piercing and
brazen, that of the Nabob, who was tranquilly performing his evolutions
across this social hothouse with the assurance bestowed upon him by his
immense wealth, and a certain contempt for women which he had brought
back from the East.

At that moment, comfortably installed on a settee, his big hands in
yellow gloves crossed carelessly one over the other, he was talking with
a very handsome woman, whose original physiognomy--much vitality coupled
with severe features--stood out pale among the pretty faces about her,
just as her dress, all white, classic in its folds and following closely
the lines of her supple figure, contrasted with toilettes that were
richer, but among which none had that air of daring simplicity. From his
corner, de Gery admired the low and smooth forehead beneath its fringe
of downward combed hair, the well-opened eyes, deep blue in colour, an
abysmal blue, the mouth which ceased to smile only to relax its pure
curve into an expression that was weary and drooping. In sum, the rather
haughty mien of an exceptional being.

Somebody near him mentioned her name--Felicia Ruys. At once he
understood the rare attraction of this young girl, the continuer of
her father's genius, whose budding celebrity had penetrated even to the
remote country district where he had lived, with the aureole of reputed
beauty. While he stood gazing at her, admiring her least gestures, a
little perplexed by the enigma of her handsome countenance, he heard
whispers behind him.

"But see how pleasant she is with the Nabob! If the duke were to come
in!"

"The Duc de Mora i