And the Pacha beat time to the waltz with his head.
I looked at the part of the room from which he had just come, and there, sure enough, in the midst of a group, I saw the tall, and stately, and still Ada Aiguille.
“He is a hardy navigator,” continued Kurz Pacha, “who sails for the boreal pole. It is glittering enough, but shipwreck by daylight upon a coral reef, is no pleasanter than by night upon Newport shoals.”
“Have you been shipwrecked, Kurz Pacha?” asked I suddenly.
He laughed softly: “No, Miss Minerva, I am not one of the hardy navigators; I keep close in to the shore. Upon the slightest symptom of an agitated sea, I furl my sails, and creep into a safe harbor. Besides, dear Miss Minna I prefer tropical cruises to the Antarctic voyage.”
And the old wretch actually looked at my black hair. I might have said something—approving his taste, perhaps, who knows?—when I saw Mrs. Potiphar. She was splendidly dressed in the silk, and it’s a pity she doesn’t become a fine dress better. She made for me directly.
“Dear Minna, I’m so glad to see you. Why how young and fresh you look to-night. Really, quite blooming! And such a sweet pretty dress, too, and the darling baby-waist and all—”
“Yes,” said that witty Gauche Boosey, “permit me, Miss Tattle,—quite an incarnate seraphim, upon my word.”
“You are too good,” replied I, “my dear Polly, it is your dress which deserves admiration, and I flatter myself in saying so, for it is the very counterpart of one I had made some months ago.”
“Yes, darling, and which you have not yet worn,” replied she. “I said to Mr. P., ‘Mr. P.’ said I, ‘there are few women upon whose amiability I can count as I can upon Minerva Tattle’s, and, therefore, I am going to have a dress like hers. Most women would be vexed about it, and say ill-natured things if I did so. But if I have a friend, it is Minerva Tattle; and she will never grudge it to me for a moment.’ It’s pretty; isn’t it? Just look here at this trimming.”