nor held when tasted.

Old tapestries of tropical foliage hung around the walls, dusk upon one
wall, dawn upon another. Trees climbed from floor to ceiling laden with
lime-coloured flowers, with birds instead of fruits upon the branches.

When at a touch the yellow dust flew out under the lamplight it seemed
to the mazy eye of the dancer that the trees sent up a mist of
pollen and song.

In this happy summer, Fanny, turning her vain ear to spoken flattery,
her vain eye to mute, danced like a golden gnat in fine weather.

The Commandant Dormans spoke to her. If he was not young he had a quick
voice that was not old. He said: "We welcome you. We have been waiting
for you. We are glad you have come."

Faces surrounded her which to her fresh eyes were not easy to read.
Names which she had heard last night became young and old men to her
--skins red and pale and dark-white--eyes blue and olive and black--gay,
audacious and mocking features. She was dazzled, she did not hurry to
understand. One could not choose, one floated free of preference, all
men were strangers.

"One day I shall know what they are, how they live, how they think." But
she did not want that day to come.

The Commandant Dormans said: "You do not regret Bar-le-Duc?"

"No, no, no."