"
Fauchery chuckled as he looked at the count, whose face, with its fringe
of whiskers and absence of mustaches, seemed to have grown squarer and
harder now that he was busy quoting figures to the writhing, struggling
Steiner.
"My word, he's got a phiz for it!" murmured Fauchery. "A pretty present
he made his wife! Poor little thing, how he must have bored her! She
knows nothing about anything, I'll wager!"
Just then the Countess Sabine was saying something to him. But he did
not hear her, so amusing and extraordinary did he esteem the Muffats'
case. She repeated the question.
"Monsieur Fauchery, have you not published a sketch of Monsieur de
Bismarck? You spoke with him once?"
He got up briskly and approached the circle of ladies, endeavoring to
collect himself and soon with perfect ease of manner finding an answer:
"Dear me, madame, I assure you I wrote that 'portrait' with the help
of biographies which had been published in Germany. I have never seen
Monsieur de Bismarck."
He remained beside the countess and, while talking with her, continued
his meditations. She did not look her age; one would have set her down
as being twenty-eight at most, for her eyes, above all, which were
filled with the dark blue shadow of her long eyelashes, retained the
glowing light of youth.
Pages:
93
94
95
96
97
98
99
100
101
102
103
104
105
106
107
108
109
110
111
112
113
114
115
116
117