ct for monastic institutions.
As for the way in which the dress was made, it is folly to rush into
competition with tailors and dress-makers, who know what they are
talking about, and are able to say things which nobody can understand.

The plain fact is that the Primadonna began to dress early, out of
sheer boredom, had her thick brown hair done in the most becoming way
in spite of its natural waves, which happened to be unfashionable just
then, and she put on the new gown with all the care and consideration
which so noble a creation deserved.

'Madame is adorable,' observed Alphonsine. 'Madame is a dream. Madame
has only to lift her little finger, and kings will fall into ecstasy
before her.'

'That would be very amusing,' said Margaret, looking at herself in the
glass, and less angry with the world than she had been. 'I have never
seen a king in ecstasy.'

'The fault is Madame's,' returned Alphonsine, possibly with truth.

When Margaret went into the drawing-room Logotheti was already there,
and she felt a thrill of pleasure when his expression changed at sight
of her. It is not easy to affect the pleased surprise which the sudden
appearance of something beautiful brings into the face of a man who is
not expecting anything unusual.

'Oh, I say!' exclaimed the Greek. 'Let me look at you!'

And instead of coming forward to take her hand, he stepped back in
order not to lose anything of the wonderful effect by being too near.
Margaret stood still and smiled in the peculiar way which is a woman's
equivalent for a cat's purring. Then, to Logotheti's still greater
delight, she slowly turned herself round, to be admired, like a statue
on a pivoted pedestal, quite regardless of a secret consciousness that
Margaret Donne would not have done such a thing for him, and probably
not for any other man.

'You're really too utterly stunning!' he cried.

In moments of enthusiasm he sometimes out-Englished Englishmen.

'I'm glad you like it,' Margaret said. 'This is the first time I've
worn it.'

'If you put it on for me, thank you! If not, thank you for putting it
on! I'm not asking, either. I should think you would wear it if you
were alone for the mere pleasure of feeling like a goddess.'

'You're very nice!'

She was satisfied, and for a moment she forgot Pompeo Stromboli, the
_Elisir d'Amore_, the public, and the critics. It was particularly
'nice' of him, too, not to insist upon being told that she had put on
th