r
candle as if they formed part of a procession, with a countenance
absolutely opposed in expression to the smiles of Madame di
Forno-Populo. When they reached the Contessa's door, Lucy, by a sudden
impulse, followed her in. It was not the first time that she had been
allowed to cross the threshold of that little enchanted world which had
filled her with wonder on her first entrance, but which by this time she
regarded with composure, no longer bewildered to find it in her own
house. Bice sprang up from a sofa on which she was lying on their
entrance. She had taken off her beautiful dress, and her hair was
streaming over her shoulders, her countenance radiant with delight. She
threw herself upon the Contessa, without perceiving the presence of Lady
Randolph.

"But it is enchanting; it is ravishing. I have never been so happy," she
cried.

"My child," said the Contessa, "here is our dear lady who is of a
different opinion."

"Of what opinion?" Bice cried. She was startled by the sudden
appearance, when she had no thought of such an apparition, of Lucy's
face so grave and uneasy. It gave a contradiction which was painful to
the girl's excitement and delight.

"Indeed, I did not mean to find fault," said Lucy. "I was only
sorry----" and here she paused, feeling herself incapable of expressing
her real meaning, and convicted of interference and unnecessary severity
by the girl's astonished eyes.

"My dear one," said the Contessa, "it is only that we look from two
different points of view. You will not object to little Bice that she
finds society intoxicating when she first goes into it. The child has
made what you call a sensation. She has had her little _succes_. That is
nothing to object to. An English girl is perhaps more reticent. She is
brought up to believe that she does not care for _succes_. But Bice is
otherwise. She has been trained for that, and to please makes her
happy."

"To please--whom?" cried Lady Randolph. "Oh, don't think I am finding
fault. We are brought up to please our parents and people who--care for
us--in England."

Here Bice and the Contessa mutually looked at each other, and the girl
laughed, putting her hands together. "_She_ is pleased most of all," she
cried; "she is all my parents. I please her first of all."

"What you say is sweet," said the Contessa, smiling upon Lucy; "and she
is right too. She pleases me most of all. To see her have her little
triumph, looking really her very