g quite like it anywhere in the world. It is the best example
there is of the pride of life, 'superbia vitae.' I forget the Greek
words at the moment; but a bishop whom I happen to know once told
me that they mean the exultation of living. You know the sort of
thing--gems and glitter, colour, scent, beauty, stateliness, strength.
'The pride of heraldry, the pomp of power.'"

I made way for Mrs. Ascher and followed her as she moved among the
tables towards the staircase at the end of the room. Von Richter hooked
his arm in Ascher's and spoke a few sentences to him rapidly in German.
He spoke without making any attempt to lower his voice. He evidently did
not think it likely that any one within earshot, except Ascher, would
understand German. We reached the hall and secured comfortable seats,
from which we could watch the long procession of men and women which was
already beginning to stream towards the supper room. I ordered coffee,
brandy and tobacco, cigars for Von Richter and myself, a box of
cigarettes for Mrs. Ascher. Ascher refused to smoke and did not touch
his brandy.

Our little party divided itself into halves. I do not know how it
happened but Von Richter managed to get himself placed beside Mrs.
Ascher in such a way that his back was partly turned to me. General
conversation became impossible. Von Richter and Mrs. Ascher talked to
each other eagerly and somehow seemed to get further away from Ascher
and me. They were still discussing the landing of guns in Ireland, in
Connaught, I think. After a while I could no longer hear what they said.
Ascher began to talk to me.

A party, two young women and one older one with three men behind them,
passed us and ascended the staircase to the supper room.

"There is something very fine," said Ascher, "about the insolence
of well-bred Englishwomen. You see how they walk and how they look,
straight in front of them. It is not an easy thing to walk well across a
long brightly lighted space with many eyes watching." I am not sure
that I like Ascher's word "insolence." I recognise the quality which
he intended to describe, which is, I think, the peculiar possession of
English women of a certain class; but I should not call it insolence.

Another party fluttered past us, a man and a woman.

"There," said Ascher, "is a French woman. She is Madame de Berthier, the
wife of one of the Ministers in the last Government, a very prominent
woman in Paris. I know her pretty well,