A prolonged thrill of excitement greeted him, respectful curiosity
drawn up in a double row, instead of the brutal crowding that had
impeded the passage of the Nabob.

No one could be more skilled than he in the art of making his
appearance in society, of walking gravely across a salon, ascending the
tribune with smiling face, imparting solemnity to trifles and treating
serious matters lightly; it was a resume of his attitude in life, a
paradoxical distinction. Still handsome, despite his fifty-six
years,--a beauty attributable to refined taste and perfect proportion,
in which the grace of the dandy was intensified by something of a
soldierly character in the figure and the haughty expression of the
face,--he appeared to admirable advantage in the black coat, whereon,
in Jenkins' honor, he had placed a few of his decorations, which he
never displayed except on days of official functions. The sheen of the
linen and the white cravat, the unpolished silver of the decorations,
the softness of the thin, grayish hair, gave added pallor to the face,
the most bloodless of all the bloodless faces assembled that evening
under the Irishman's roof.

He led such a terrible life! Politics, gambling in every form, on the
Bourse and at baccarat, and the reputation of a lady-killer which he
must maintain at any price. Oh! he was a typical patient of Jenkins,
and he certainly owed that visit in princely state to the inventor of
the mysterious Pearls, which gave to his eyes that glance of flame, to
his whole being that extraordinary pulsing vivacity.

[Illustration: "'_His Excellency, the Due de Mora!_'"]

"My dear duke, allow me to present to you--"

Monpavon, solemn of face, with padded calves, attempted to make the
introduction so anxiously expected; but His Excellency, in his
preoccupation, did not hear and kept on toward the large salon, borne
onward by one of those electric currents that break the monotony of
social life. As he passed, and while he paid his respects to the fair
Madame Jenkins, the women leaned forward with alluring glances, soft
laughter, intent upon making a favorable impression. But he saw only
one, Felicia, who stood in the centre of a group of men, holding forth
as if in her own studio, and tranquilly sipping a sherbet as she
watched the duke's approach. She welcomed him with perfect naturalness.
Those who stood by discreetly withdrew. But, in spite of what de Gery
had overheard concerning their alleged rel