And Sybil, glancing up, noted for the very first time the extreme beauty of the man's eyes, and if the open admiration beaming from their sapphire depths gave her a thrill of gratification, it was the approval of the manager that moved her, not the man, she told herself; and since there is no one in this world so easy to deceive as one's self, she undoubtedly believed her own statement.
"Ah! ah! monsieur, you have a find in this young girl!" said old Lefebvre to Thrall. "She should be a big card—and in your hands, eh?" he poked the managerial ribs and winked his round black eye knowingly. "The wires will be pulled, eh? And the public, it will dance! And the dollars they will rattle, eh? A-a-ah! Qu'est-ce, cherie? Les perles? mais oui—certainement! In a moment I shall bring them! My key? Ah, the devil flies away with everything this day! Where is my key? Ah, here in my vest-pocket all the time!"
And at last Thrall's patience was rewarded as pearls came to the front, and "Oh!" exclaimed Sybil, in amazed delight. For her idea of imitation pearls had been founded upon the cheap bluish-white glass beads with just a skim of wax for lining. Now she stood astonished by the weight and lustre of these lovely things from Paris, where by some clever artifice the scales of fish are used to produce upon the forms of almost solid wax the wonderful "nacre" of the true gem of the sea. So artistic was the work that small imperfections in shape and flaws in tinting had been carefully reproduced, the monotony of a mechanical perfection being thus avoided. Really they were very beautiful, and among those selected strands intended for the throat it was as if color, having life and breath, a rosy pink, had gently breathed across their milky lustre, faintly flushing the swelling round of each great pearl. Nor were they too frail for service; weight and solidity made them almost as durable as the true jewel's self. And here was bunch after bunch of seed pearls, so small, for embroidery on lace or satin; long strands for plaiting in the hair, for the suspension from the waist of feather fan or tiny mirrors à la Marie Stuart, when dauphine of France; great girdles for the waist, whose pendant tassels fell almost to the wearer's feet. And at last—at last, the heavy net which he so much wished to see upon that waywardly waving dark cloud of hair!
Old Angelique, having raised a sternly instructing index finger to close proximity with Sybil's glowing face, proceeded to strike off with it upon the air these verbal commands: "You will do exact now as I tell you, if you wish to look the little Juliet—so high-bred, so headstrong, yet so young! Mais, so young—mon Dieu! mon Dieu! comme—like a bébé! Now make the mark of my words, Miss—Miss—er? Lawsons! oui! oui! merci! For I have in the mind that Juliet—me—I know! So you must make no height on the top of the head, no cross braid, no pile up curl, no coronet! No—no! that make very handsome, mais—but not the Juliet! Tumble the hair to the shoulders, half curl! No curl, all regular! Wat is call 'em, 'em ring-a-let? No! no! half-curl, half-wave—oui! all natural! And for the front, the hair all fluff—so! [puffing out her breath]—low to the brows, that the big eyes look from under it, like from a cloud. Then turn all back from the cheeks, after the manner of the angels in the old masters' pictures! Obey me, and you shall see! The city shall see! Why, even now!" She flung the net upon Sybil's head, drawing a pear-shaped pendant pearl forward to rest upon her brow, rapidly twisted the white lace scarf about her shoulders to hide the street gown, threw a rope of pearls about her neck, and with triumphant eyes turned to Thrall, saying: "Is not the Italian angel's the coiffure correct for this, Miss Lawsons?"
Thrall answered, briefly, "Quite correct!"
And Sybil, with an ecstatic sigh, said again: "How I do wish Dorothy were here!"
And Thrall commented: "Your lovers have cause for jealousy of that young sister, I fancy, Miss Lawton?"
But, with careless frankness, Sybil answered: "I never had a lover in my life! So Dorrie can have caused no jealousy, you see!" and turned her whole attention back to Nonna Angelique, who was checking off costumes on her fingers.
And she would have been an astonished girl had she been told that her brusquely spoken words had made this man's heart leap in his breast, as no seductive wile of most tactful coquetry could have done; and the fact that he had no right to heed the words of any maid, however sweet or fair, did nothing to check that hurried thumping at his ribs. For, like many other men, he had something of the explorer's spirit about him—something that responded eagerly to the charm of the strange, the vague, the new,—something that makes the would-be explorer of the terra incognita ignore all thought of danger, and dream only of the beauty of virgin forests, strange flowers, and fabled fountains of youth and love eternal! No one could have guessed that the calm-faced, stately gentleman, looking on at the selection of Juliet's finery, was mentally repeating those candid, girlish words: "I never had a lover in my life!"
"Ah, no!" he thought; "no more had Juliet ever had a lover in her life, up to an hour before that 'trifling, foolish banquet,' given by old Capulet. Yet, ere its end, swift love had grown so great that she had declared already for the grave, if 'twere a passion unrequited!"