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to the twittering diapason which distinguishes Oriental women； caressing and coaxing； the mind supple as the body； touching on all subjects； and mixing in the requisite proportions fashion and charity sermons； theatres and bazaars； the dressmaker and the confessor。 The mistress of the house united a great personal charm with this acquired sciencea science visible even in her black and very simple dress； which brought out her nun…like pallor； her houri…like eyes； her shining and plaited hair drawn back from a narrow； child…like forehead； a forehead of which the small mouth accentuated the mystery； hiding from the inquisitive the former /favourite's/ whole varied past； she who had no age； who knew not herself the date of her birth； and never remembered to have been a child。
Evidently if the absolute power of evilrare indeed among women； influenced as they are by their impressionable physical nature by so many different currentscould take possession of a soul； it would be in that of this slave； moulded by basenesses； revolted but patient； and complete mistress of herself； like all those whom the habit of veiling the eyes has accustomed to lie safely and unscrupulously。
At this moment no one could have suspected the anguish she suffered； to see her kneeling before the princess； an old； good； straightforward soul； of whom the Fuernberg was always saying； 〃Call that a princess that！〃
〃I beg of you； godmamma； don't go away yet。〃
She surrounded her with all sorts of cajoleries； of graces； of little airs； without telling her； to be sure； that she wanted to keep her till the arrival of the Jansoulets； to add to her triumph。
〃But；〃 said the princess； pointing out to her the majestic Armenian； silent and grave； his tasselled hat on his knees； 〃I must take this poor bishop to the /Grand Saint…Christophe/； to buy some medals。 He would never get on without me。〃
〃No； no； I wishyou musta few minutes more。〃 And the baroness threw a furtive look on the ancient and sumptuous clock in a corner of the room。
Five o'clock already； and the great Afchin not arrived。 The Levantines began to laugh behind their fans。 Happily tea was just being served； also Spanish wines； and a crowd of delicious Turkish cakes which were only to be had in that house； whose receipts； brought away with her by the favourite； had been preserved in the harem； like some secrets of confectionery on our convents。 That made a diversion。 Hemerlingue； who on Saturdays came out of his office from time to time to make his bow to the ladies； was drinking a glass of Madeira near the little table while talking to Maurice Trott； once the dresser of Said…Pasha； when his wife approached him； gently and quietly。 He knew what anger this impenetrable calm must cover； and asked her； in a low tone； timidly：
〃No one？〃
〃No one。 You see to what an insult you expose me。〃
She smiled； her eyes half closed； taking with the end of her nail a crumb of cake from his long black whiskers； but her little transparent nostrils trembled with a terrible eloquence。
〃Oh； she will come；〃 said the banker； his mouth full。 〃I am sure she will come。〃
The noise of dresses； of a train rustling in the next room made the baroness turn quickly。 But； to the great joy of the 〃bundles；〃 looking on from their corners； it was not the lady they were expecting。
This tall； elegant blonde； with worn features and irreproachable toilette； was not like Mlle。 Afchin。 She was worthy in every way to bear a name as celebrated as that of Dr。 Jenkins。 In the last two or three months the beautiful Mme。 Jenkins had greatly changed； become much older。 In the life of a woman who has long remained young there comes a time when the years； which have passed over her head without leaving a wrinkle； trace their passage all at once brutally in indelible marks。 People no longer say； on seeing her； 〃How beautiful she is！〃 but 〃How beautiful she must have been！〃 And this cruel way of speaking in the past； of throwing back to a distant period that which was but yesterday a visible fact； marks a beginning of old age and of retirement； a change of all her triumphs into memories。 Was it the disappointment of seeing the doctor's wife arrive； instead of Mme。 Jansoulet； or did the discredit which the Duke de Mora's death had thrown on the fashionable physician fall on her who bore his name？ There was a little of each of these reasons； and perhaps of another； in the cool greeting of the baroness。 A slight greeting on the ends of her lips； some hurried words； and she returned to the noble battalion nibbling vigorously away。 The room had become animated under the effects of wine。 People no longer whispered； they talked。 The lamps brought in added a new brilliance to the gathering； but announced that it was near its close； some indeed； not interested in the great event； having already taken their leave。 And still the Jansoulets did not come。
All at once a heavy； hurried step。 The Nabob appeared； alone； buttoned up in his black coat； correctly dressed； but with his face upset； his eyes haggard； still trembling from the terrible scene which he had left。
She would not come。
In the morning he had told the maids to dress madame for three o'clock； as he did each time he took out the Levantine with him； when it was necessary to move this indolent person； who； not being able to accept even any responsibility whatever； left others to think； decide； act for her； going willingly where she was desired to go； once she was started。 And it was on this amiability that he counted to take her to Hemerlingue's。 But when； after /dejeuner/； Jansoulet dressed； superb； perspiring with the effort to put on gloves； asked if madame would soon be ready； he was told that she was not going out。 The matter was grave； so grave； that putting on one side all the intermediaries of valets and maids； which they made use of in their conjugal dialogues； he ran up the stairs four steps at once like a gust of wind； and entered the draperied rooms of the Levantine。
She was still in bed； dressed in that great open tunic of silk of two colours； which the Moors call a /djebba/； and in a little cap embroidered with gold； from which escaped her heavy long black hair； all entangled round her moon…shaped face； flushed from her recent meal。 The sleeves of her /djebba/ pushed back showed two enormous shapeless arms； loaded with bracelets； with long chains wandering through a heap of little mirrors； of red beads； of scent…boxes； of microscopic pipes； of cigarette casesthe childish toyshop collection of a Moorish woman at her rising。
The room； filled with the heavy opium…scented smoke of Turkish tobacco； was in similar disorder。 Negresses went and came； slowly removing their mistress's coffee； the favourite gazelle was licking the dregs of a cup which its delicate muzzle had overturned on the carpet； while seated at the foot of the bed with a touching familiarity； the melancholy Cabassu was reading aloud to madame a drama in verse which Cardailhac was shortly going to produce。 The Levantine was stupefied with this reading； absolutely astounded。
〃My dear；〃 said she to Jansoulet； in her thick Flemish accent； 〃I don't know what our manager is thinking of。 I am just re