Little by little the great room began to fill, and the Countess was soon making shrewd and not over-kindly remarks about some of the people coming in.
Lily was amused to notice how interested Aunt Cosy was in everybody—their appearance, their jewels, their clothes, their manners! She was evidently much enjoying her little outing, and Beppo’s knowledge of her taste was well shown by the eager satisfaction with which she ate the lobster he had thoughtfully ordered for her.
But though the Countess ate heartily, she also talked a great deal—indeed, most of the conversation was carried on by her and by her son.
Count Polda remained quite silent, though his observant eyes often became closely fixed on some individual who in Lily’s eyes looked particularly uninteresting, for almost always the person in question was a man. Once he stared with a strange intentness at a rather curious-looking individual.
“Look,” he exclaimed, and it was the first time he had broken silence—“Look, Cosy! There is the great Chicago Sausage King! He is one of the richest men in the world!”
Aunt Cosy glanced sharply at the individual in question. Then she looked away, and began talking of something else.
As for Lily, she was now feeling quite gay and quite cheerful. Her share of the luncheon was proving delicious, and the brilliance and lightsome charm of the scene about her delighted all her senses. Also, she could not help feeling just a little happier for the proximity of good Papa Popeau. Now and again she would find his eyes fixed on their little party, always with a benevolent, inquiring, kindly, interested glance. She hoped, with all her heart, that he would come up and speak to them.
At last they reached the coffee stage of their déjeuner and at the same moment the man who had been Hercules Popeau’s guest got up and, shaking hands with his host, left the restaurant. M. Popeau signed his bill, and then he threaded his way slowly between the now very crowded tables to where Count Beppo’s party were seated.
The Countess greeted him effusively. “Let me present my son to you,” she cried. “Beppo! This is a gentleman who was remarkably kind to Lily on her long and disagreeable journey from Paris.”
Count Polda and Count Beppo, who had both risen courteously from their seats, exclaimed almost together: “Do have your coffee with us—or have you already had it?”