CHAPTER XXIV.
Mrs. Carew had arrived on Tuesday morning, and announced that a previous engagement would limit her visit to Saturday, at which time she had promised to become the guest of a friend on Murray Hill.
During Wednesday and Thursday the house was thronged with visitors. There was company to dinner and to luncheon, and every imaginable tribute paid to the taste and vanity of the beautiful woman, who accepted the incense offered as flowers the dew of heaven, and stars the light that constitutes their glory. Accustomed from her cradle to adulation and indulgence, she had a pretty, yet imperious manner of exacting it from all who ventured within her circle; and could not forgive the cool indifference which generally characterized Olga's behaviour.
Too well-bred to be guilty of rudeness, the latter contrived in a very adroit way to defy every proposition advanced by the fair guest, and while she never transcended the bounds of courtesy, she piqued and harassed and puzzled not only Mrs. Carew, but Mr. Palma.
At ten o'clock on Thursday night, when the guests invited to dinner had departed, and the family circle had collected in the sitting-room to await the carriage which would convey the ladies to a Wedding Reception, Mrs. Carew came downstairs magnificently attired in a delicate green satin, covered with an over dress of exquisite white lace, and adorned with a profusion of emeralds and pearls.
Her hair was arranged in a unique style (which Olga denominated "Isis fashion"), and above her forehead rested a jewelled lotos, the petals of large pearls, the leaves of emeralds.
As she stood before the grate, with the white lace shawl slipping from her shoulders, and exposing the bare gleaming bust, Olga exclaimed:
"O Queen of the Nile! What Antony awaits your smiles?"
As if aware that she were scrutinized, the grey eyes, sank to the carpet, then met Olga's.
"Miss Neville is not the only person who has found in me a resemblance to the Egyptian sorceress. When I return to Italy, Story shall immortalize me in connection with his own impassioned poem. Let me see, how does it begin: