“Oh––it is quite possible. The marriage was in Rome. Both the English and Americans go to Rome.”
“Italian! I heard it was an English or American!”
“Surely, not so bad as that!”
“But only those who have money;––or, if they have not the money, our sons and our brothers do not marry them.”
“Good!” and Lavergne nodded with mock sagacity. “We reach conclusions; the newly made Marquise de Caron is either not Anglo-Saxon or was not without wealth.”
“I heard from Dumaresque that she had attended English schools; that no doubt gives her the English suggestion.”
“Oh, I know more than that;” said another, eager to add to the knowledge of the group. “Between Fontainbleau and Moret is the Levigne chateau. Two years ago the dowager was there with a young beauty, Judithe Levigne, and that is the girl Alain married; the dowager was also a Levigne, and the girl an adopted daughter.”
“What is she like now? Has no one seen her?”
“No one more worldly than her confessor––if she possess one, or the nuns of the convent to which she returned to study after her marriage and widowhood.”
“Heavens! We must compose our features when we enter the presence!”