she has!" he thought, admiring the loose brown masses, warm
upon their background of pink silk.

"Oh, I'm inured to waiting," he replied, with a retrospective mind for
the interminable waits of that interminable day.

The Duchessa had taken a fan from the table, and was playing with it,
opening and shutting it slowly, in her lap. Now she caught Peter's eyes
examining it, and she gave it to him. (My own suspicion is that Peter's
eyes had been occupied rather with the hands that held the fan, than
with the fan itself--but that's a detail.)

"I picked it up the other day, in Rome," she said. "Of course, it's
an imitation of the French fans of the last century, but I thought it
pretty."

It was of white silk, that had been thinly stained a soft yellow, like
the yellow of faded yellow rose-leaves. It was painted with innumerable
plump little cupids, flying among pale clouds. The sticks were of
mother-of=pearl. The end-sticks were elaborately incised, and in the
incisions opals were set, big ones and small ones, smouldering with
green and scarlet fires.

"Very pretty indeed," said Peter, "and very curious. It's like a great
butterfly's wing is n't it? But are n't you afraid of opals?"

"Afraid of opals?" she wondered. "Why should one be?"

"Unless your birthday happens to fall in October, they're reputed to
bring bad luck," he reminded her.

"My birthday happens to fall in June but I 'll never believe that such
pretty things as opals can bring bad luck," she laughed, taking the fan,
which he returned to her, and stroking one of the bigger opals with her
finger tip.

"Have you no superstitions?" he asked.

"I hope not--I don't think I have," she answered. "We're not allowed to
have superstitions, you know--nous autres Catholiques."

"Oh?" he said, with surprise. "No, I did n't know."

"Yes, they're a forbidden luxury. But you--? Are you superstitious?
Would you be afraid of opals?"

"I doubt if I should have the courage to wear one. At all events, I
don't regard superstitions in the light of a luxury. I should be glad
to be rid of those I have. They're a horrible inconvenience. But I can't
get it out of my head that the air is filled with a swarm of malignant
little devils, who are always watching their chance to do us an ill
turn. We don't in the least know the conditions under which they can
bring it off; but it's legendary that if we wear opals, or sit thirteen
at table, or start an enterprise on Friday, or