are about, and find the meaning of our magnificence"—and so put her off at arm's length, to undergo cooler inspection.
"Shall I do?" was her question.
"Do?" said I. "There are different ways of doing; and, by my word, I don't understand yours."
"But how do I look?"
"You look well dressed."
She thought the praise not warm enough, and proceeded to direct attention to the various decorative points of her attire. "Look at this parure" said she. "The brooch, the ear-rings, the bracelets: no one in the school has such a set—not madame herself."
"I see them all." (Pause.) "Did M. de Bassompierre give you those jewels?"
"My uncle knows nothing about them."
"Were they presents from Mrs. Cholmondeley?"
"Not they, indeed. Mrs. Cholmondeley is a mean, stingy creature; she never gives me anything now."
I did not choose to ask any further questions, but turned abruptly away.
"Now, old Crusty—old Diogenes" (these were
