the classic Greek type of face—­and figure, too—­all but the eyes, which were long and narrow—­narrow, perhaps, from a habit of going half closed; and when they were a little more than half closed they made a straight black line that turned up very slightly at the outer end with an Oriental effect which went oddly in that classic face.  There is a popular piece of sculpture now in the Luxembourg Gallery for which this lady “sat” as model to a great artist.  Sculptors from all over the world go there to dream over its perfect line and contour, and little schoolgirls pretend not to see it, and middle-aged maiden tourists, with red Baedekers in their hands, regard it furtively and pass on, and after a while come back to look again.

The lady was dressed in some very close-clinging material which was not cloth of gold, but something very like it, only much duller—­something which gleamed when she stirred, but did not glitter—­and over her splendid shoulders was hung an Oriental scarf heavily worked with metallic gold.  She made an amazing and dramatic picture in that golden room.  It was as if she had known just what her surroundings would be and had dressed expressly for them.

The applause ceased as suddenly as if it had been trained to break off at a signal, and the lady came forward a little way, smiling a quiet, assured smile.  At each step her knee threw out the golden stuff of her gown an inch or two, and it flashed suddenly—­a dull, subdued flash in the overhead light—­and died and flashed again.  A few of the people in the room knew who the lady was, and they looked at one another with raised eyebrows and startled faces; but the others stared at her with an eager admiration, thinking that they had seldom seen anything so beautiful or so effective.  Ste. Marie sat forward on the edge of his chair.  His eyes sparkled, and he gave a little quick sigh of pleasurable excitement.  This was drama, and very good drama, too, and he suspected that it might at any moment turn into a tragedy.

He saw Captain Stewart, who had been among a group of people half-way across the room, turn his head to look when the cries and the applause ceased so suddenly, and he saw the man’s face stiffen by swift degrees, all the joyous, buoyant life gone out of it, until it was yellow and rigid like a dead man’s face; and Ste. Marie, out of his knowledge of the relations between these two people, nodded, en connaisseur, for he knew that the man was very badly frightened.

So the host of the evening hung back, staring for what must have seemed to him a long and terrible time, though in reality it was but an instant; then he came forward quickly to greet the new-comer, and if his face was still yellow-white there was nothing in his manner but the courtesy habitual with him.  He took the lady’s hand, and she smiled at him, but her eyes did not smile—­they were hard.  Ste. Marie, who was the nearest of the others, heard Captain Stewart say: