Now, however, there was a perceptible decline in
these signs of hospitality, and Undine, on calling one day on the
Duchess, noticed that her appearance sent a visible flutter of
discomfort through the circle about her hostess's chair. Two or three of
the ladies present looked away from the new-comer and at each other,
and several of them seemed spontaneously to encircle without approaching
her, while another--grey-haired, elderly and slightly frightened--with
an "Adieu, ma bonne tante" to the Duchess, was hastily aided in her
retreat down the long line of old gilded rooms.
The incident was too mute and rapid to have been noticeable had it not
been followed by the Duchess's resuming her conversation with the ladies
nearest her as though Undine had just gone out of the room instead of
entering it. The sense of having been thus rendered invisible filled
Undine with a vehement desire to make herself seen, and an equally
strong sense that all attempts to do so would be vain; and when, a few
minutes later, she issued from the portals of the Hotel de Dordogne it
was with the fixed resolve not to enter them again till she had had an
explanation with the Princess.
She was spared the trouble of seeking one by the arrival, early the next
morning, of Madame de Trezac, who, entering almost with the breakfast
tray, mysteriously asked to be allowed to communicate something of
importance.
"You'll understand, I know, the Princess's not coming herself--" Madame
de Trezac began, sitting up very straight on the edge of the arm-chair
over which Undine's lace dressing-gown hung.
Pages:
344
345
346
347
348
349
350
351
352
353
354
355
356
357
358
359
360
361
362
363
364
365
366
367
368