y knew; but there they were, and we all bowed down to them. This
woman, however, was very pretty, there was no doubt about it," said Lady
Randolph, with reluctant candour. "I don't know what she may be now. She
was enough to turn any man's head when she was young--or even a
woman's--who ought to have known better."

"Do you think then, Aunt Randolph, that women don't admire pretty
people?" It is to be feared that Lucy asked for the sake of making
conversation, which it is sometimes necessary to do.

"I think that men and women see differently--as they always do," said
Lady Randolph. She was rather fond of discriminating between the ideas
of the sexes, as many ladies of a reasonable age are. "There is a
gentleman's beauty, you know, and there is a kind of beauty that women
love. I could point out the difference to you better if the specimens
were before us; but it is a little difficult to describe. I rather
think we admire expression, you know. What men care for is flesh and
blood. We like people that are good--that is to say, who have the air of
being good, for the reality doesn't by any means follow. Perhaps I am
taking too much credit to ourselves," said the old lady, "but that is
the best description I can hit upon. We like the interesting kind--the
pensive kind--which was the fashion when I was young. Your great, fat,
golden-haired, red and white women are gentlemen's beauties; they don't
commend themselves to us."

"And is Madame di Forno-Populo," said Lucy, in her usual elaborate way,
"of that kind?"

"Oh! my dear, she is just a witch," Lady Randolph said. "It does not
matter who it is, she can bring them to her feet if she pleases!" Then
she seemed to think she had gone too far, and stopped herself: "I mean
when she was young; she is young no longer, and I dare say all that has
come to an end."

"It must be sad to grow old when one is like that," said Lucy, with a
look of sympathetic regret.

"Oh, you are a great deal too charitable, Lucy!" said the old lady: and
then she stopped short, putting a sudden restraint upon herself, as if
it were possible that she might have said too much; then after a while
she resumed: "As you are in such a heavenly frame of mind, my dear, and
disposed to think so well of her, there is just one word of advice I
will give you--don't allow yourself to get intimate with this lady. She
is quite out of your way. If she liked, she could turn you round her
little finger. But it is to