simplest, but _c'est le
ton qui fait la musique_, and, for the solitary time in his existence,
Lord Gervase is embarrassed.

Brandolin, playing with the colley dog near at hand, listens and
observes.

Lady Usk is not so observant. "It is a long time since he was in
Russia," she says to her friend, "I dare say you have forgotten. His
father was alive, and his name was Baird then, you know."

Xenia Sabaroff makes a little polite gesture expressive of entire
indifference to the change in these titles. With an action which would
be rude in any woman less high-bred, she turns away her head and speaks
to Brandolin, ignoring the acquaintance and the presence of Gervase.

Across the good-natured and busy brain of her hostess there flashes an
electric and odious thought: is it possible that Usk may be right, and
that there may be something wrong, after all, in this her latest and
most adored friend? She feels that she will die of suffocated curiosity
if she do not speedily get her cousin alone and learn all he has ever
known or heard of the Princess Sabaroff.

"A snub direct!" whispers Lawrence Hamilton to Mr. Wootton.

"Or a cut direct: which?" says that far-sighted gentleman.

"Anyhow, it's delightful to see him let in for it," reflects Usk, who
has also observed the incident from where he stands by the liqueurs.

Gervase, who has never been known to be at a loss in any position,
however difficult, colors and looks at once annoyed and confused. He
stands before Xenia Sabaroff for a few moments hesitating and
irresolute, conscious that every one is looking at him; then he takes
refuge with Lady Dawlish, whom he detests, because she is the nearest
person to him.

"Madame Sabaroff is eclipsing the black women," says that lady.

"What black women?" asks Gervase, very inattentive and bored. She tells
him the story of the Hindoo harem, and he hears no word of it.

"Brandolin is always so odd," he says, indifferently, watching the hand
of Xenia Sabaroff as it rests on the shoulder of the Babe, who is
leaning against her knees gazing at her adoringly.

Gervase is angered; irritated, interested, and mortified all at once. He
has never been in an absurd position before, and he is aware that he was
in one a moment ago, and that the whole house-party of Surrenden Court
saw him in it. "What a fool Dolly was not to tell me she was here!" he
thinks, forgetting that his cousin and hostess has not the remotest
suspicion that he a