heir little party of youth outside the
phalanx of the elders. But Bice took no more note of them than if they
had been cabbages. She was in great excitement, all smiles and glory.
"Do I please you like this?" she said, going up to Lucy, spreading out
all her finery with the delight of a child. Lucy shrank a little. She
had a troubled anxious look, which did not look like pleasure; but Lady
Anastasia, who wrote for the newspapers, walked round and round the
_debutante_ and took notes frankly. "Of course I shall describe her
dress. I never saw anything so lovely," the lady said. Bice, in the glow
of her golden yellow, and of her smiles and delight, with the noble
correspondent of the newspapers examining her, found the acutest
interest in the position. The Contessa from her sofa smiled upon the
scene, looking on with the air of a gratified exhibitor whose show had
succeeded beyond her hopes. Lady Randolph, with an air of anxiety in her
fair and simple countenance, stood behind, looking at Bice with
protecting yet disturbed and troubled looks. The mother and daughters at
the other side looked on, she all solid and speechless with
disapproval, they in a flutter of interest and wonder and gentle envy
and offence. More than a tableau; it was like an act out of a play. And
when the gentlemen came in what a sudden quickening of the interest!
Bice rose to the action like a heroine when the great scene has come,
and the others all gathered round with a spectatorship that was almost
breathless. The worst feature of the whole to those who were interested
in Bice was her own evident enjoyment. She talked, she distributed her
smiles right and left, she mimicked yet flattered Montjoie with a
dazzling youthful assurance which confounded Mr. Derwentwater, and made
Jock furious, and brought looks of pain not only to the face of Lucy but
also to that of Sir Tom, who was less easily shocked. She was like a
young actress in her first triumph, filling her _role_ with a sort of
enthusiasm, enjoying it with all her heart. And when the Contessa rose
to sing, Bice followed her to the piano with an air as different as
possible from the swift, noiseless self-effacement of her performance on
previous occasions. She looked round upon the company with a sort of
malicious triumph, a laugh on her lips as of some delightful
mystification, some surprise of which she was in the secret. "Come and
listen," she said to Jock, lightly touching him on the shoulde