rushed on him, they surrounded--they crushed him: 'The name, the name of
the purchaser?' 'It is an American,' replied Gibert, 'Mrs. Scott.'"

"Mrs. Scott!" cried Paul de Lavardens.

"You know her?" asked Madame de Lavardens.

"Do I know her?--do I--not at all. But I was at a ball at her house six
weeks ago."

"At a ball at her house! and you don't know her! What sort of woman is
she, then?"

"Charming, delightful, ideal, a miracle!"

"And is there a Mr. Scott?"

"Certainly, a tall, fair man. He was at his ball. They pointed him out
to me. He bowed at random right and left. He was not much amused, I
will answer for it. He looked at us as if he were thinking, 'Who are all
these people? What are they doing at my house?' We went to see Mrs.
Scott and Miss Percival, her sister. And certainly it was well worth the
trouble."

"These Scotts," said Madame de Lavardens, addressing M. de Larnac, "do
you know who they are?"

"Yes, Madame, I know. Mr. Scott is an American, possessing a colossal
fortune, who settled himself in Paris last year. As soon as their name
was mentioned, I understood that the victory had never been doubtful.