The Austrian looked across at her husband.  Such marriages were rare in his country, and he had thought so too in England.  He wondered what their story could be.  He wondered how soon she would take a lover—­and he realized how infinitely worth while that lover would find his situation.

He wished he were not so old.  If she must break up her bark on the rocks, he could take the place of steersman with pleasure.  But he was a courteous gentleman and he said none of these things aloud.

Meanwhile, Lord Bracondale was not enjoying his dinner.  For the first time for several years he found himself jealous!  He, unlike Theodora, knew the meaning of every one of his sensations.

“She is certainly interested in Prince Carolstein,” he thought, as he watched her; “he has a European reputation for fascination.  She has not looked this way once since the entrees.  I wish I could hear what they are talking about.  As for that young puppy Hoggenwater, I would like to kick him round the room!  Lord, look how he is leaning over her!  It sickens me!  The young fool!”

Mrs. Ellerwood turned round in her seat and surveyed the room.  They had almost come to the end of dinner, and could move their chairs a little.  She had the true Englishwoman’s feeling when among foreigners—­that they were all there as puppets for her entertainment.

“Look, Hector,” she said—­they were cousins—­“did you ever see such a lovely woman as that one over there among the large party, in the black chiffon dress?”

Then Hector committed a betise.

“Where?” said he, his eyes persistently fixed in another direction.

“There; you can’t mistake her, she looks so pure white, and fair, among all these Frenchwomen The one with the blue eyes and the lovely hat with those sweeping feathers.  She is exquisitely dressed, and both those men look fearfully devoted to her.  Can’t you see?  Oh, you are stupid!”

“My dear Monica,” said Jack Ellerwood, who joined rarely in the conversation, “Hector has been sitting facing this way all through dinner.  He is a man who can appreciate what he sees, and I do not fancy has missed much—­have you, Hector?” and he smiled a quiet smile.

Mrs. Ellerwood looked at Lord Bracondale and laughed.

“It is I who am stupid,” she said.  “Naturally you have seen her all the time, and know her probably.  Are they cocottes, or Americans, or Russian princesses, or what?—­the whole collection?”

“If you mean that large party in the corner, they are most of them friends and acquaintances of mine,” he said, rather icily—­she had annoyed him—­“and they belong to the aristocracies of various nations.  Does that satisfy you?  I am afraid they are none of them demimondaines, so you will be disappointed this time!”

Mrs. Ellerwood looked at him; she understood now.

“He is in love with the white woman,” she thought; “that is why he was so anxious to dine here to-night, when Jack suggested Madrid; that is why he stays in Paris.  It is not Esclarmonde de Chartres after all!  How excited Aunt Milly will be!  I must find out her name.”