"It is most things!" he replied—"Without it even science is crippled. And this lady has so much of it!—it seems without end! Again,—it is seldom one meets with money and brains and beauty—all together!"
"Beauty?" Rivardi queried.
"Why, yes!—beauty that only flashes out at moments—of all beauty the most fascinating! A face that is always beautiful is fatiguing,—it is the changeful face with endless play of expression that enthralls,—or so it is to me!" And Gaspard gave an eloquent gesture—"This lady we both work for seems to have no lovers—but if she had, not one of them could ever forget her!"
Rivardi was silent.
"I should not wonder," ventured Gaspard, presently—"if—while we slept—she had seen her 'Brazen City'!"
Rivardi uttered something like an oath.
"Impossible!" he exclaimed—"She would have awakened us!"
"If she could, no doubt!" agreed Gaspard—"But if she could not, how then?"
For a moment Rivardi looked puzzled,—then he dismissed his companion's suggestion with a contemptuous shrug.
"Basta! There is no 'Brazen City'! When she heard the old tradition she was like a child with a fairy tale—a child who, reading of strawberries growing in the winter snow, goes out forthwith to find them—she did not really believe in it—but it pleased her to imagine she did. The mere sight of the arid empty desert has been enough for her."