right ear drooped heavily a black pearl, from her left a pink; and
their difference gave an odd, bewildering witchery to the little face
between.

Was the young Duke bewitched? Instantly, utterly. But none could have
guessed as much from his cold stare, his easy and impassive bow.
Throughout dinner, none guessed that his shirt-front was but the
screen of a fierce warfare waged between pride and passion. Zuleika,
at the foot of the table, fondly supposed him indifferent to her.
Though he sat on her right, not one word or glance would he give her.
All his conversation was addressed to the unassuming lady who sat on
his other side, next to the Warden. Her he edified and flustered
beyond measure by his insistent courtesy. Her husband, alone on the
other side of the table, was mortified by his utter failure to engage
Zuleika in small-talk. Zuleika was sitting with her profile turned to
him--the profile with the pink pearl--and was gazing full at the young
Duke. She was hardly more affable than a cameo. "Yes," "No," "I don't
know," were the only answers she would vouchsafe to his questions. A
vague "Oh really?" was all he got for his timid little offerings of
information. In vain he started the topic of modern conjuring-tricks
as compared with the conjuring-tricks performed by the ancient
Egyptians. Zuleika did not even say "Oh really?" when he told her
about the metamorphosis of the bulls in the Temple of Osiris. He
primed himself with a glass of sherry, cleared his throat. "And what,"
he asked, with a note of firmness, "did you think of our cousins
across the water?" Zuleika said "Yes;" and then he gave in. Nor was
she conscious that he ceased talking to her. At intervals throughout
the rest of dinner, she murmured "Yes," and "No," and "Oh really?"
though the poor little don was now listening silently to the Duke and
the Warden.