* * * * *
Kurtz brought the message intended for Sidonia straight to the Burgravine. He was an astute young man, and knew the most likely quarter for promotion. Betty was at the moment engaged with the contents of a milliner's box, choosing a hat to wear with a certain new green redingote at the review to be held that afternoon. Something it must have of the military cock, without offending the feminine graces. It was matter of the deepest moment. But Betty, it has been hinted, had a capable mind—a facility for grasping several issues at the same time. She rose promptly to the new situation.
"Bid Baroness Sidonia come to me," she ordered. Then, tartly recalling her maid, who was edging towards the door: "Eliza, where are you going?" she cried.
"Mon Dieu," said Eliza, innocently, "but to inform mademoiselle that some one is waiting for her. And, indeed," she added, seeing by the flash of her lady's eye that her good-natured intention was frustrated—"indeed, madam, it is strange what a foolish habit we have all got into of calling madam's niece Mademoiselle. It is the young countess, I should say."
She clasped her hands, and was about to wax eloquent on the subject of her pleasure at M. le Comte Kielmansegg's reappearance and of her rooted conviction that they were un bien gentil couple, divinely destined for each other, when her mistress peremptorily reduced her to silence. Kurtz thereupon vanished in his brisk soldier way.
Betty selected another hat and set it on her curly head. It had an adorably impudent tilt and a bunch of orange cock-feathers.
"That, madame," said the French milliner, her thin elbows akimbo, her bright, familiar eyes fixed admiringly on her client—"that, madame, we call the Shako à la Saxonne—it is everything that is new—an inspiration after the battle of Lützen. And there is not another lady in Cassel will have anything like it."
Betty twisted her figure from side to side, and surveyed herself in the long mirror. She had donned the long narrow redingote to be sure of her effect, and the rich dark green of the velvet threw her face into charming relief. The orange note of the feather was the perfecting touch.
"I really think—I really think I will have it." She spoke lingeringly: these things do not decide themselves without reflection.
Sidonia came in slowly. Betty ran a keen eye over the girl; the fair hair was rough, and that was a dreadful little garment of Wellenshausen manufacture ... pale face, heavy eyes! Betty broke into a laugh. Life was really very amusing at times.