e
heard you. So, please, get over the preliminaries, and let's come to the
music. I'm awfully fond of music, especially singing. I'm a dab at that
myself----"

The Contessa let her eyes dwell upon this illustrious young man. "Why,"
she said, "have I been prevented from making acquaintance with the art
in which my Lord Montjoie is--a dab----"

At this there was a laugh, in which the good-natured young nobleman did
not refuse to join. "I say, you know! it's too bad to make fun of me
like this," he cried; "but I'll tell you what, Countess, I'll make a
bargain with you. I'll sing you three of mine if you'll sing me one of
yours."

The Contessa smiled with that gracious response which so often answered
instead of words. The other ladies had withdrawn, except Lucy, who
waited somewhat uneasily till her guest was ready. Though Madame di
Forno-Populo had never lost the ascendency which she had acquired over
Lady Randolph by throwing herself upon her understanding and sympathy,
there were still many things which Lucy could not acquiesce in without
uneasiness, in the Contessa's ways. The group of men about her chair,
when all the other ladies took their candles and made their way
upstairs, wounded Lucy's instinctive sense of what was befitting. She
waited, punctilious in her feeling of duty, though the Contessa had not
hesitated to make her understand that the precaution was quite
unnecessary--and though even Sir Tom had said something of a similar
signification. "She is old enough to take care of herself. She doesn't
want a chaperon," Sir Tom had said; but nevertheless Lucy would take up
a book and sit down at the table and wait: which was the more
troublesome that it was precisely at this moment that the Contessa was
most amusing and enjoyed herself most. Sir Tom's parliamentary friends
had disappeared to the smoking-room when the ladies left the room. It
was the other kind of visitors, the gentlemen who had known the
Contessa in former days, and were old friends likewise of Sir Tom, who
gathered round her now--they and young Lord Montjoie, who was rather out
of place in the party, but who admired the Contessa greatly, and thought
her better fun than any one he knew.

The Contessa gave the young man one of those speaking smiles which were
more eloquent than words. And then she said: "If I were to tell you why,
you would not believe me. I am going to retire from the world."

At this there was a little tumult of outcry and