After half an hour spent in gay chit-chat, Lady Esmondet, consulting her watch, reminded Vaura of their purposed drive; and with a promise asked by Sir Tilton, and given by Vaura, that she would wear one of his flowers on that evening, they parted.
In a short time Lady Esmondet and Vaura were seen driving along the fashionable parks and streets of Paris, and no carriage attracted more attention than the one in which they were seated. They met many friends and acquaintances among whom were Mr. and Mrs. Eustace Wingfield.
"One does not often see them together," said Lady Esmondet. "Still, I am sure, they suit each other better than most married people."
"What a queer world it is," remarked Vaura; "even ma chere godmother is rather cynical as regards the happiness of most married lives. What is the reason of it all? Is it that man who, as Charles Reade says, is 'born to hunt something,' is no longer happy when the chase is over. And woman, what of her? Is it that 'tis only the excitement of the hunt we care for, that our heart has no part in the matter."
"You know the world, Vaura, and you know you are right—still you will marry, and be happy; for your heart will go with your hand, and you know your power to make the man you will love happy."
"Sympathy, soul-felt and earnest, is more than love which sometimes changes, or passion and fancy which always evaporate," answered Vaura, seriously; "but," she added, "who, among the butterflies of to-day, cares for all this: A. marries B., because he can give her a title; B. marries A., because she brings him money—it's all a debit and credit system."
"Yes, Vaura, dear, Tennyson says truly, 'we men are a little breed.'"
But a warmer light deepens in Vaura's eyes as a vision of a handsome face, wearing at times a weary look, flashes across her memory, and she thinks some men are worth loving, and are not of the "little breed."
"What a bold-looking woman; I wonder who she is," said Lady Esmondet. "She's passed us several times; that was an aristocratic man beside her, and quite a youth. She wears her rouge too extravagantly."
"She has yet to come to the knowledge that she's anybody," answered Vaura, contemptously; "looks to me like greed and vice, and man is not the worse animal of the two."