"You know she unfastens her dress and lets down her hair. All the
effect springs from that."

"People say that she swallows something to make her green."

"No, no, every action is premeditated; but she had to invent and study
them all, in the first place."

"It's wonderful."

The two ladies rose and made their exit, and the room regained its
tranquil peacefulness. From some hyacinths on the mantel-shelf was
wafted an all-pervading perfume. For a time one could hear the noisy
twittering of some sparrows quarrelling on the lawn. Before resuming
her seat, Madame Deberle proceeded to draw down the embroidered tulle
blind of a window facing her, and then returned to her sofa in the
mellowed, golden light of the room.

"I beg pardon," she now said. "We have had quite an invasion."

Then, in an affectionate way, she entered into conversation with
Helene. She seemed to know some details of her history, doubtless from
the gossip of her servants. With a boldness that was yet full of tact,
and appeared instinct with much friendliness, she spoke to Helene of
her husband, and of his sad death at the Hotel du Var, in the Rue de
Richelieu.

"And you had just arrived, hadn't you? You had never been in Paris
before. It must be awful to be plunged into mourning, in a strange
room, the day after a long journey, and when one doesn't know a single