n and
satire, they were of the wittiest even as they were of the cleverest of
men. They ridiculed unmercifully what they were pleased to call the
"regulations of polite society;" they enjoyed unvarnished truth--as a
rule, the more disagreeable the truth the more they delighted in
telling it. They scorned all etiquette, they pursued all dandies and
belles with terrible sarcasm; they believed in every wild or impossible
theory that had ever been started; in fact, though honest as the day,
honorable, and true, they were about the worst associates a young girl
could have had to fit her for the world. The life she led among them had
been one long romance, of which she had been queen.

The house in the Rue d'Orme had once been a grand mansion; it was filled
with quaint carvings, old tapestry, and the relics of a by-gone
generation. The rooms were large--most of them had been turned into
studios. Some of the finest of modern pictures came from the house in
the Rue d'Orme, although, as a rule, the students who worked there were
not wealthy.

It was almost amusing to see how this delicate young girl ruled over
such society. By one word she commanded these great, generous, unworldly
men--with one little white finger upraised she could beckon them at her
will; they had a hundred pet names for her--they thought no queen or
empress fit to be compared with their old comrade's daughter. She was to
be excused if constant flattery and homage had made her believe that she
was in some way superior to the rest of the world.

When the great change came--when she left the Rue d'Orme for Darrell
Court--it was a terrible blow to Pauline to find all this superiority
vanish into thin air. In place of admiration and flattery, she heard
nothing but reproach and correction. She was given to understand that
she was hardly presentable in polite society--she, who had ruled like a
queen over scholars and artists! Instead of laughter and applause, grim
silence followed her remarks. She read in the faces of those around her
that she was not as they were--not of their world. Her whole soul turned
longingly to the beautiful free Bohemian world she had left. The
crowning blow of all was when, after studying her carefully for some
time, Sir Oswald told her that he feared her manners were against
her--that neither in style nor in education was she fitted to be
mistress of Darrell Court. She had submitted passively to the change in
her name; she was proud o