Julia Redmond sat beside the Comtesse de la Maine, whose elegance she admired enormously, and taking one of the lady's hands, with a frank liking she asked in her rich young voice:
"Why do you tolerate me, Madame?"
"Ma chère enfant," exclaimed the comtesse. "Why, you are adorable."
"It is terribly good of you to say so," murmured Julia Redmond. "It shows how generous you are."
"But you attribute qualities to me I do not deserve, Mademoiselle."
"You deserve them and much more, Madame. I loved you the first day I saw you; no one could help loving you."
Julia Redmond was irresistible. The Comtesse de la Maine had remarked her caprices, her moods, her sadness. She had seen that the good spirits were false and, as keen women do, she had attributed it to a love-affair with the Duc de Tremont. The girl's frankness was contagious. The Comtesse de la Maine murmured:
"I think the same of you, ma chère, vous êtes charmante."
