Selden thought for a moment that she was going to stop; but she did not—just nodded to them and drifted past in the wake of the obsequious patron, with the little fish-tail in which her clinging gown terminated sliding noiselessly at her heels, and making her look absurdly like a mermaid, a siren....
Selden could not help smiling as he looked after her—the deep spiritual smile with which one regards a masterpiece.
“Yes, she is very striking,” the countess agreed; “and very intelligent; do you not think so?” and she looked at him curiously.
“Of course I think so,” said Selden, with a heartiness a shade artificial.
“She is too good for the prince,” the countess went on. “She should have for her lover a great artist, a poet, a dramatist—a great journalist like yourself; she would arouse him, keep him awake, furnish him with endless themes, and make his future. With the prince her talents are wasted.”
“Perhaps,” Selden suggested with elaborate carelessness, “after this annuity business is settled, and she has further consolidated her position by marrying that girl to Davis, she will drop the prince and look about her. I certainly hope so.”
“Why?” asked the countess quickly, still looking at him.
“Because,” Selden explained, “the whole point of the situation is not whether the prince has had a mistress—but mistress isn’t the right word. After all, he married her.”
“With the left hand,” said the countess. “There is a difference.”
“Well, the question is not what the prince has done, but what he is going to do. You will remember, she hasn’t promised to give him up—only not to make a scene.”