This inopportune memory did not trouble her:  she was almost grateful to Raymond for giving her the touch of superiority her compatriots clearly felt in her.  It was not merely her title and her “situation,” but the experiences she had gained through them, that gave her this advantage over the loud vague company.  She had learned things they did not guess:  shades of conduct, turns of speech, tricks of attitude—­and easy and free and enviable as she thought them, she would not for the world have been back among them at the cost of knowing no more than they.

Moffatt made no allusion to his visit to Saint Desert; but when the party had re-grouped itself about coffee and liqueurs on the terrace, he bent over to ask confidentially:  “What about my tapestries?”

She replied in the same tone:  “You oughtn’t to have let Fleischhauer write that letter.  My husband’s furious.”

He seemed honestly surprised.  “Why?  Didn’t I offer him enough?”

“He’s furious that any one should offer anything.  I thought when he found out what they were worth he might be tempted; but he’d rather see me starve than part with one of his grand-father’s snuff-boxes.”

“Well, he knows now what the tapestries are worth.  I offered more than Fleischhauer advised.”

“Yes; but you were in too much of a hurry.”

“I’ve got to be; I’m going back next week.”

She felt her eyes cloud with disappointment.  “Oh, why do you?  I hoped you might stay on.”

They looked at each other uncertainly a moment; then he dropped his voice to say:  “Even if I did, I probably shouldn’t see anything of you.”

“Why not?  Why won’t you come and see me?  I’ve always wanted to be friends.”

He came the next day and found in her drawing-room two ladies whom she introduced as her sisters-in-law.  The ladies lingered on for a long time, sipping their tea stiffly and exchanging low-voiced remarks while Undine talked with Moffatt; and when they left, with small sidelong bows in his direction.

Undine exclaimed:  “Now you see how they all watch me!”

She began to go into the details of her married life, drawing on the experiences of the first months for instances that scarcely applied to her present liberated state.  She could thus, without great exaggeration, picture herself as entrapped into a bondage hardly conceivable to Moffatt, and she saw him redden with excitement as he listened.  “I call it darned low—­darned low—­” he broke in at intervals.

“Of course I go round more now,” she concluded.  “I mean to see my friends—­I don’t care what he says.”

“What can he say?”

“Oh, he despises Americans—­they all do.”

“Well, I guess we can still sit up and take nourishment.”