"Is it possible that madame forgets her marriage is to take place one week from to-morrow?"

"What! as soon as that?"

"Certainly, madame. You decided on the twentieth of May, and this is the twelfth."

"If I said the twentieth, it will have to be the twentieth. But how strange it is. One is leading a delightful life; one is young and free, and one hates restraint, and yet one cannot give oneself another master too soon."

"A master? A man as kind and gentle as M. le duc? Why, you can make whatever you please of him, madame!"

"I shall never make a charming man of him, and yet I shall marry him.

Ah, aunt, aunt, you are responsible for all this. There is one good thing about it, though. One will at least escape the bother of having to ask oneself what one had better do."

The countess proceeded in a leisurely fashion to the drawing-room, where she found her aunt and the Duc de Riancourt awaiting her.

The Princesse Wileska, Madame Zomaloff's aunt, was a tall, distinguished-looking woman, with gray hair which she wore slightly powdered. The Duc de Riancourt was a small man, about thirty years of age, with a thin, rather crooked neck, long, straight hair parted in the middle, a somewhat sanctimonious air, and eyes set rather obliquely, while his slow, precise movements indicated a remarkable amount of self-control.

When Madame Zomaloff entered the room, he advanced to meet her, bowed profoundly, and raised nearly to his lips the pretty hand the countess carelessly offered him, then, straightening himself up, he gazed at her a moment as if dazzled, exclaiming:

"Ah, madame la comtesse, I never saw you arrayed in all your diamonds before! I do not believe there are any other diamonds like them in the world. How beautiful they are! Good Heavens! how beautiful they are!"

"Really, my dear duke, you quite overpower me by your admiration--for my diamonds; and as my necklace and diadem arouse such tender emotion in your breast and inspire you with such graceful compliments, I will tell you, in strict confidence, the name of my jeweller. It is Ezekiel Rabotautencraff, of Frankfort."

While M. de Riancourt was trying to find some suitable response to Madame Zomaloff's raillery, the aunt of that young lady gave the duke a reproachful look, remarking, with a forced smile:

"See how this mischievous Fedora delights in teasing you. It is a very common way of concealing the affection one feels for people, I believe."

"I humbly admit, my dear princess, that, dazzled by these magnificent jewels, I failed to render due homage to their wearer," said M. de Riancourt, in the hope of repairing his blunder. "But--but may not a person be so dazzled by the sun as to be unable to see even the most beautiful of flowers?"

"I am so impressed by this comparison of yours that I am almost tempted to believe that the same glaring sunshine you speak of must have withered these poor blossoms," retorted the mischievous young woman with a gay laugh, holding up for the duke's inspection the rather faded bouquet he had sent her.

That gentleman blushed up to his very ears; the princess frowned with an impatient air, while the countess, perfectly indifferent to these signs of disapproval, coolly remarked, as she walked toward the door:

"Give your arm to my aunt, M. de Riancourt. I promised my friend, the wife of the Russian amba.s.sador, that I would be at her house very early, as she wishes to present me to one of her relatives, and you know we have first to inspect that wonderful mansion--that enchanted palace everybody is talking about."

After waiting a few seconds in the vestibule, the countess and her aunt saw a clumsy landau, drawn by two emaciated horses, lumber up to the door, and the young widow, turning to the duke in evident surprise, said:

"Why, this is not your carriage! What has become of that dark blue berlin drawn by two handsome gray horses that you placed at our disposal yesterday morning?"

"Under the circ.u.mstances I feel no hesitation about confessing a little detail of domestic economy to you, my dear countess," replied the duke, with touching _navete_. "To save my grays, for which I was obliged to pay a good round sum, I a.s.sure you, I always hire a carriage in the evening. It is very much more economical than to risk one's own turnout at night."

"And you are perfectly right, my dear duke," the princess hastened to say, fearing another shaft of ridicule from her niece. M. de Riancourt's footman was in attendance. He opened the door of the antiquated vehicle.

The princess, a.s.sisted by the duke, quickly entered it, but as that gentleman offered his hand to the young widow for the same purpose, the petulant beauty paused with the tip of her white satin slipper lightly poised on the carriage step, and said, with an air of the deepest apprehension:

"Do examine every nook and corner of the carriage carefully, aunt, I beseech you, before I get in."

"But why, my dear?" inquired the princess, navely. "What is the necessity of this precaution?"

"I am afraid some red-headed girl or some stout shopkeeper may have been left in a corner, as it is in vehicles of this description that worthy shopkeepers drive about all day with their families when they treat themselves to an outing."

Laughing heartily, the young widow sprang into the carriage. As she seated herself, the princess said to her, in a low tone, but with a deeply pained air:

"Really, Fedora, I do not understand you. You are strangely sarcastic toward M. de Riancourt. What can be your object?"

"I want to cure him of his shameful stinginess. How could I better manifest my interest in him?"

Just then the duke took the seat opposite them. He seemed to endure with Christian meekness the ridicule of this young woman who possessed such magnificent diamonds, as well as all sorts of gold and silver mines; but the furtive glance he bestowed on her now and then, and a certain contraction of his thin lips, indicated that a sullen rage was rankling in his heart.

The footman having asked for orders, M. de Riancourt replied:

"To the Hotel Saint-Ramon."

"Pardon me, M. le duc," answered the footman, "but I don't know where the Hotel Saint-Ramon is."

"At the end of the Cours la Reine," responded M. de Riancourt.

"Does M. le duc mean that large house on which they have been working several years?"

"Yes."

The footman closed the door, and repeated the instructions to the coachman who applied the whip vigorously to his bony steeds, and the landau started in the direction of the Cours la Reine.

CHAPTER XVII.

THE HOTEL SAINT-RAMON.

M. de Riancourt's clumsy equipage moved so slowly that when it reached the entrance to the Cours la Reine a pedestrian, who was proceeding in the same direction, kept pace with it without the slightest difficulty.

This pedestrian, who was very poorly dressed, did not seem to be very active, for he leaned heavily on his cane. His long beard, his hair, and his bushy eyebrows were as white as snow, while the swarthy hue of his wrinkled face gave him the appearance of an aged mulatto. When M. de Riancourt's carriage had advanced about half way up the Cours la Reine, its progress was still further impeded by a long line of vehicles, which were evidently also on the way to the Hotel Saint-Ramon; so the old man pa.s.sed the landau, and walked on until he came to an avenue glittering with gaily coloured lamps, and filled from end to end with a long procession of carriages.

Though the old man seemed deeply absorbed in thought, his attention was naturally attracted to the large crowd that had a.s.sembled near the handsome gateway that served as an entrance to this brilliantly lighted avenue, so he paused, and, addressing one of the bystanders, inquired:

"Can you tell me what all these people are looking at?"

"They are looking at the guests who are going to the opening of the famous Saint-Ramon mansion."

"Saint-Ramon?" murmured the old man, with evident surprise. "How strange!"

Then he added aloud:

"What is this Hotel Saint-Ramon, monsieur?"

"The eighth wonder of the world, people say. It has taken five years to build it, and the owner gives a house-warming to-night."

"To whom does this house belong, monsieur?"