quickly.

"She is extremely fortunate," replies madame, who smiles her sweetest
smile, and it is one of rare art and beauty. "I am sorry to have missed
you through this little visit," she continues, with a most fascinating,
delicate regret.

"And I am so sorry." She _is_ sorry now; she feels more at home with
Madame Lepelletier in five minutes than she does with any of the
family, Gertrude excepted. She knows now that she should have enjoyed
the reception, even if she had no right to dance.

Laura spies out the china, and she has the craze badly. Madame turns to
inspect the cabinet. There is a true Capo di Monte, and some priceless
Nankin, and here a set of rare intaglios. Some one must have had taste
and discernment. Laura would like to cavil, but dares not. The
professor tells of curiosities picked up in the buried cities of
centuries ago,--lamps and pitchers and vases and jewels that he has
sent to museums abroad,--and stirs them all with envy.

During this talk Violet listens with an air of interest. She knows at
least some of the points of good breeding, decides madame. She also
asks Grandon to bring two or three odd articles from Denise's cupboard.

"You don't admit that you actually drink out of them," cries Laura, in
amaze, at last.

"Why, yes," and Violet laughs in pure delight. If there was a tint of
triumph in it, Laura would turn savage, but it is so generous, so
genial. "I wish you would accept that," she says, "and drink your
chocolate out of it every day. Won't you please wrap it some way?" and
she turns her eyes beseechingly to Floyd.

The love of possession triumphs over disdain. Laura is tempted so
sorely, and Floyd brings some soft, tough, wrinkled paper, that looks
as if it might have been steeped in amber, and gently wraps the
precious cup and saucer, while Laura utters thanks. They all politely
hope that she will soon be sufficiently recovered to come home, and
madame prefers a gentle request that she shall be allowed to offer her
some hospitality presently when she begins to go into society.

"Oh," declares Violet, when the two gentlemen return from their
farewell devoirs, "how utterly lovely she is! I do not suppose
princesses are _always_ elegant, but she seems like one, the most
beautiful of them all; and her voice is just enchanting! I could
imagine myself being bewitched by her. I could sit and look and
listen----"

"_Mignonne_, thy husband will be jealous," says the professor.