ve aristocrat against the triumphant usurper. She had suffered so
much from that particular class of the risen kitchen-wench of which the
woman before her was so typical and example: years of sorrow, of poverty
were behind her: loss of fortune, of kindred, of friends--she, even now
a pauper, living on the bounty of strangers.

And all this through no fault of her own: the fault of her class mayhap!
but not hers!

She had suffered much, and was still overwrought and nerve-strung: for
some reason she could not afterwards have explained, she felt spiteful
and uncontrolled, goaded into stupid fury by the look of insolence and
of triumph with which Candeille calmly regarded her.

Afterwards she would willingly have bitten out her tongue for her
vehemence, but for the moment she was absolutely incapable of checking
the torrent of her own emotions.

"Mademoiselle Candeille, indeed?" she said in wrathful scorn, "Desiree
Candeille, you mean, Lady Blakeney! my mother's kitchen-maid, flaunting
shamelessly my dear mother's jewels which she has stolen mayhap..."

The young girl was trembling from head to foot, tears of anger obscured
her eyes; her voice, which fortunately remained low--not much above a
whisper--was thick and husky.

"Juliette! Juliette! I entreat you," admonished Marguerite, "you must
control yourself, you must, indeed you must. Mademoiselle Candeille, I
beg of you to retire...."

But Candeille--well-schooled in the part she had to play--had no
intention of quitting the field of battle. The more wrathful and excited
Mademoiselle de Marny became the more insolent and triumphant waxed
the young actress' whole attitude. An ironical smile played round the
corners of her mouth, her almond-shaped eyes were half-closed, regarding
through dropping lashed the trembling figure of the young impoverished
aristocrat. Her head was thrown well back, in obvious defiance of
the social conventions, which should have forbidden a fracas in Lady
Blakeney's hospitable house, and her fingers provocatively toyed with
the diamond necklace which glittered and sparkled round her throat.

She had no need to repeat the words of a well-learnt part: her own wit,
her own emotions and feelings helped her to act just as her employer
would have wished her to do. Her native vulgarity helped her to assume
the very bearing which he would have desired. In fact, at this moment
Desiree Candeille had forgotten everything save the immediate present: