Excellenz lifted her shoulders and curved the corners of her mouth almost to her chin.
“I wonder!” Again Ordham’s glance strayed into the dusk beyond the glare. He recalled the curses and the ecstasies of Isolde. A footman changed his plate, and he asked, “How is it that I have never met her, even at a rout?”
“She has gone into society very little this year. I fancy she is now quite tired of it, and that only a royal command could draw her forth. And”—with a sigh—“there is no court, as you know.”
“Do the men still pursue her?”
“Not the older men; there are always recruits among the fledglings, but men soon learn the difference between ice and ivory, and life is short.”
“I should like to meet her.”
“No doubt. But she is more difficult to meet than the King.”
“You seem to know her very well.”
“Comparatively. But she happens to be the only genius of my acquaintance—of my own sex—and I am never quite at ease with her. I should far more aptly take a liberty with the Queen, to whom, indeed, I am privileged to say du; but I have never ventured into that zone of liberty with Die Styr. She is the most majestic, or shall I say, the most frozen, creature I have ever met. Where did she get it? Her origin! Her past! She upsets every theory.”
“There are no theories where genius is concerned. And if, in addition, she has an intellect—naturally she dominates. There are so few intellects. D’you see?”