y her own will--were
greatly enjoyed by Jacqueline. Everything amused her, being seen from a
point of view in which she had never before contemplated it. She seemed
to be at a play, all personal interests forgotten for the moment,
looking at the world of which she was no longer a part with a lively,
critical curiosity, without regrets but without cynicism. The world did
not seem to her bad--only man's higher instincts had little part in it.
Such, at least, was what she thought, so long as people praised her
for her courage, so long as the houses in which another Jacqueline
de Nailles had been once so brilliant, received her with affection as
before, though she had to leave in an anteroom her modest waterproof
or wet umbrella. They were even more kind and cordial to her than ever,
unless an exaggerated cordiality be one form of impertinence. But the
enthusiasm bestowed on splendid instances of energy in certain circles,
to which after all such energy is a reproach, is superficial, and
not being genuine is sure not to last long. Some people said that
Jacqueline's staid manners were put on for effect, and that she was only
attempting to play a difficult part to which she was not suited; others
blamed her for not being up to concert-pitch in matters of social
interest. The first time she felt the pang of exclusion was at
Madame d'Avrigny's, who was at the same moment overwhelming her with
expressions of regard. In the first place, she could see that the little
family dinner to which she had been so kindly invited was attended by so
many guests that her deep mourning seemed out of place among them. Then
Madame d'Avrigny would make whispered explanations, which Jacqueline was
conscious of, and which were very painful to her. Such words as: "Old
friend of the family;" "Is giving music lessons to my daughter;" fell
more than once upon her ear, followed by exclamations of "Poor thing!"
"So courageous!" "Chivalric sentiments!" Of course, everyone added that
they excused her toilette. Then when she tried to escape such remarks
by wearing a new gown, Dolly, who was always a little fool (there is
no cure for that infirmity) cried out in a tone such as she never would
have dared to use in the days when Jacqueline was a model of elegance:
"Oh, how fine you are!" Then again, Madame d'Avrigny, notwithstanding
the good manners on which she prided herself, could not conceal that the
obligation of sending home the recluse to the ends of the