Julie saw diamonds as big as hen’s eggs on these brown nabob’s wives, but the pearls dramatically obscured everything else.
“I’m very fond of Barry McChord,” murmured Mrs. Calixter, “but I don’t subscribe to some of his guests.”
Their host was discovered in the front room, a blond young man moving around the room in a white mess jacket. He came across to greet them.
Julie looked up to the face she had seen on the Luneta, the gay, young excelsior face with the vivid hair, through which he stressfully rumpled his fingers as he talked.
He had an ardor of being that communicated itself electrically to those around him. Julie felt suddenly on fire again. He looked attentively at her, as if there were something about her that called up some association. She wondered how he came to be so strong and so magnificent, and to attain this golden blaze of power out of which he shone like a prince.
They were separated before they could have anything to say to each other. Mrs. Calixter wanted Julie to meet somebody “very special.” As that was precisely what she had been doing, Julie wondered why she had to be led away.
Streams of fantastic people blocked their way. Refreshments made into the most fanciful forms were proffered them from great nara wood tables, such as might have served for a mediæval feast. Every one was going about his own picturesque business; love-making was coming into play down under the lanterns in the gardens, where the native musicians were making music to draw one’s heart out of one’s breast.
In the midst of a sudden bursting triumphal strain, Julie stopped to behold what she believed to be a queen, with her train—a woman of such an opulent type of beauty, of such vivid tones of costume and improbable profusion of jewels, that the eye for an instant was overwhelmed. Mrs. Calixter whispered that this was the famous Isabel Armistead, known all over the Orient as “The Empress of the East.”
“Why,” Julie exclaimed, staring at her amazed, “that’s the lady from the Caliph’s garden!” She explained vividly her chance visit of the afternoon.
“A caliphess indeed!” Mrs. Calixter agreed.