Trafford looked up and then down at his dessert plate.
“No, sir.”
“Ah! I am almost glad that it has not; for I think she is still more lovely than she was before her marriage. Will you see about it, and at once, if you please?”
“Yes, sir,” said Trafford, gravely.
“I think Millais had better do it,” continued the duke, thoughtfully. “What do you say, Selvaine?”
“Millais, certainly,” responded Lord Selvaine.
“It should be done at once, and it must be the size of the others in the hall. There will not be a more beautiful face there. I should like a miniature also, to place with the others in the cabinet. I do not know who is now most famous for miniatures; but you will know, Trafford. Please do not lose any time over the matter; it is really an obligatory one.”
“Yes, sir,” said Trafford again. His quietude and lack of enthusiasm seemed to strike the old man; and he looked at him with a faint surprise, then he smiled.
“It is all very well for you, my dear boy,” he said. “You possess the original, but we shall not have her here always, and so we need her picture. How admirably that dress became her,” he went on, after a pause. It was evident that he was absorbed in her. “Some women have the faculty of wearing their clothes with that instinctive grace which indues the robe with something of their own charm; Esmeralda is one of them. The simplest frock would become imperial while she wore it.”
Lord Selvaine smiled his cynical smile.