"We are very proud in England," began Dorothy, "very proud indeed. Ah, but our pride is immense. It is like a mushroom, standing up higher than our heads and the top of it covering us and shutting out the world. Of all my sisters there is none so proud as Hébé, and l'oncle Gustave says she will make a very great marriage indeed. She is like me, but she has dark eyes, whereas mine are blue like bits of sky, n'est-ce pas?"
Margot made no reply.
"When am I going to see your sister, Dorothy?"
"Shall we arrange for to-morrow? You may perhaps see one of the many prétendants to her hand. Not that she looks at them. Ah non, non. She abides her time. There is one called Maurice de Croix. He is a man of the world with an air superb and distinguished, but my sister, she will not regard him. But there, I must not speak any more on such matters. There is, peut-être one in England. I guess—but I dare not say. You will come to-morrow, little Margot, straight from school and be introduced to ma belle soeur."
Margot gave a little sigh, said that she must ask grandpère, and would let her friend know the following day.
Grandpère was highly pleased that his little cabbage should have tea in the true French style with le pauvre Gustave.
"He was once a very great man," said grandpère, "but he lived through his fortune and now—now he subsists on his pride. It is a great possession, the pride, ma très belle Margot, but it produces the hunger. I took care to do otherwise. I married my Ninon and since then, behold, I live in luxury, and can give thee a glorious dot, ma petite!"
While Margot and her grandfather were talking, Madame la Comtesse entered the room. She was dressed in a pale shade of green with quantities of sequins of the same colour arranged on the front of her dress. Her little collar was of the best Honiton lace. Her dress was short, coming barely to her ankles. She wore open-work silk stockings of the same shade and little green kid shoes en suite. She looked very charming and young, and no one could tell from her appearance what her age could possibly be.
She rushed up now to "mon Alphonse," arranged his down pillows, settled his soft rug of crimson plush and said, "Ah, behold, art thou not full of comfort, my adored one? And what has la petite been saying to thee?"
"Good news, my Ninon," replied grandpère. "Gustave, the present Marquis de Serrègnon, wants this bébé to have tea with his nieces Hébé and Dorothy to-morrow evening. Ah, but I fear the food will be poor, but the Marquis is the Marquis, and we must not despise him. This little Margot, this chère petite, loves dearly his English niece, Lady Dorothy Duncan, but it is the sister whom Lady Dorothy wishes her to meet."