at once the despair and the triumph of
her _corsetiere_. With both hands she was holding her fur-lined skirts
from contact with the deck, disclosing at the same time remarkably
shapely feet encased in trim patent shoes, with plain silver buckles,
and a little more black silk stocking than seemed absolutely necessary.
The deck steward, after a half-puzzled scrutiny of the labels, let down
the chair next to the two men. The Duchesse contemplated her prospective
neighbours with some curiosity, mingled with a certain amount of
hesitation. It was at that moment that Sogrange, shaking away his rug,
rose to his feet.

"Madame la Duchesse permits me to remind her of my existence," he said,
bowing low. "It is some years since we met, but I had the honour of a
dance at the Palace in Madrid."

She held out her hand at once, yet somehow Peter felt sure that she was
thankful for her veil. Her voice was pleasant, and her air the air of a
great lady. She spoke French with the soft, sibilant intonation of the
Spaniard.

"I remember the occasion perfectly, Marquis," she admitted. "Your sister
and I once shared a villa in Mentone."

"I am flattered by your recollection, Duchesse," Sogrange murmured.

"It is a great surprise to meet with you here, though," she continued.
"I did not see you at Cherbourg or on the train."

"I motored from Paris," Sogrange explained, "and arrived, contrary to my
custom, I must confess, somewhat early. Will you permit that I introduce
an acquaintance whom I have been fortunate enough to find on board:
Monsieur le Baron de Grost--Madame la Duchesse della Nermino."

Peter was graciously received, and the conversation dealt, for a few
moments, with the usual banalities of the voyage. Then followed the
business of settling the Duchesse in her place. When she was really
installed, and surrounded with all the paraphernalia of a great and
fanciful lady, including a handful of long cigarettes, she raised her
veil. Peter, who was at the moment engaged in conversation with her, was
a little shocked with the result. Her features were worn, her face dead
white, with many signs of the ravages wrought by the constant use of
cosmetics. Only her eyes had retained something of their former
splendour. These latter were almost violet in colour, deep-set, with
dark rims, and were sufficient almost in themselves to make one forget
for a moment the less prepossessing details of her appearance. A small
library of books was