"Dutri," she insisted, with her hand on his arm, "do your best. Help me. Ask for an interview for me. If you help me ... I will help you too...."
He looked at her expectantly.
"What do you think of Hélène?" she asked.
"I think Eleonore prettier," he smiled.
"Well, come to us oftener, to my special days; we never see anything of you. I will prepare the duke...."
She dangled the rich match before his eyes: he blinked them, as he continued to look at her and smile.
"But then you must help me!" she continued, with a gentle threat.
"I will do my best, Alexa, but I can promise nothing," he just had time to reply. "Wait for me after the drawing-room, in one of the other rooms," he whispered, accompanying her for a few steps.
All this time the titles were being cried, ceremoniously, slowly; the ladies moved on, dropped their trains, blossomed out.
"Her excellency the Duchess of Yemena, Countess of Vaza; their excellencies the Marchionesses of Yemena...."