famous, and had been associated for generations with the Delafield name.
Beneath them the carpets were covered by fine eighteenth-century
furniture, much of it of a florid Italian type subdued to a delicate and
faded beauty by time and use. The room was cleverly broken into various
circles and centres for conversation; the chairs were many and
comfortable; flowers sheltered tête-à-têtes or made a setting for
beautiful faces; the lamps were soft, the air warm and light. A cheerful
hum of voices rose, as of talk enjoyed for talking's sake; and a general
effect of intimacy, or gayety, of an unfeigned social pleasure, seemed
to issue from the charming scene and communicate itself to the onlooker.

And for a few moments, before he was discovered and tumultuously annexed
by a neighboring group, Sir Wilfrid watched the progress of Mademoiselle
Le Breton through the room, with the young Duchess in her wake. Wherever
she moved she was met with smiles, deference, and eager attention. Here
and there she made an introduction, she redistributed a group, she moved
a chair. It was evident that her eye was everywhere, that she knew every
one; her rule appeared to be at once absolute and welcome. Presently,
when she herself accepted a seat, she became, as Sir Wilfrid perceived
in the intervals of his own conversation, the leader of the most
animated circle in the room. The Duchess, with one delicate arm
stretched along the back of Mademoiselle Le Breton's chair, laughed and
chattered; two young girls in virginal white placed themselves on big
gilt footstools at her feet; man after man joined the group that stood
or sat around her; and in the centre of it, the brilliance of her black
head, sharply seen against a background of rose brocade, the grace of
her tall form, which was thin almost to emaciation, the expressiveness
of her strange features, the animation of her gestures, the sweetness of
her voice, drew the eyes and ears of half the room to Lady Henry's
"companion."