eyes were like blue steel, she was statue-like and stony. But had one
paused there, pronouncing her hard and impassive, he had committed an
error. She had no great capability for passion, but she was not to be
deceived; one metallic flash of her eye would cut like a sword through
the whole mesh of entanglements with which you had surrounded her; and
frequently, when alone with her, you perceived cool recesses in her
nature, sparkling and pleasant, which jealously guarded themselves from
a nearer approach. She was infinitely _spirituelle_; compared to her,
Madame herself was heavy.

At the first I had seen that Delphine must be the wife of a diplomate.
What diplomate? For a time asking myself the question seriously, I
decided in the negative, which did not, however, prevent Delphine from
fulfilling her destiny, since there were others. She was, after all,
like a draught of rich old wine, all fire and sweetness. These things
were not generally seen in her; I was more favored than many; and I
looked at her with pitiless perspicacious eyes. Nevertheless, I had not
the least advantage; it was, in fact, between us, diamond cut diamond,
--which, oddly enough, brings me back to my story.

Some years previously, I had been sent on a special mission to the
government at Paris, and having finally executed it, I resigned the
post, and resolved to make my residence there, since it is the only
place on earth where one can live. Every morning I half expect to see
the country, beyond the city, white with an encampment of the nations,
who, having peacefully flocked there over night, wait till the Rue St.
Honoré shall run out and greet them. It surprises me, sometimes, that
those pretending to civilization are content to remain at a distance.
What experience have they of life,--not to mention gayety and pleasure,
but of the great purpose of life,--society? Man evidently is gregarious;