nor ill, lacking distinction, but without vulgarity.

"Indeed, my dear Varhely, I am enchanted with this idea of Prince Andras.
I am enjoying myself excessively already, and I intend to enjoy myself
still more. Do you know, this scheme of a breakfast on the water is
simply delightful! Don't you find it so? Oh! do be a little jolly,
Varhely!"

"Do I seem sad, then, Baroness?"

Yanski Varhely, the friend of Prince Andras, was very happy, however,
despite his rather sombre air. He glanced alternately at the little
woman who addressed him, and at Marsa, two very different types of
beauty: Andras's fiancee, slender and pale as a beautiful lily, and the
little Baroness Dinati, round and rosy as a ripe peach. And he was
decidedly pleased with this Marsa Laszlo, against whom he had
instinctively felt some prejudice when Zilah spoke to him for the first
time of marrying her. To make of a Tzigana--for Marsa was half Tzigana--
a Princess Zilah, seemed to Count Varhely a slightly bold resolution.
The brave old soldier had never understood much of the fantastic caprices
of passion, and Andras seemed to him in this, as in all other things,
just a little romantic. But, after all, the Prince was his own master,
and whatever a Zilah did was well done. So, after reflection, Zilah's
marriage became a joy to Varhely, as he had just been declaring to the
fiancee's uncle, General Vogotzine.

Baroness Dinati was therefore wrong to suspect old Yanski Varhely of any
'arriere-pensee'. How was it possible for him not to be enchanted, when
he saw Andras absolutely beaming with happiness?