"You would beg the Commission to kindly return you your shell," suggested de Lussac, with a wink.
"Hardly," said Philip, smiling; "I am too near the goal to do that."
"I think I had better be off now," said de Lussac, looking at his watch. "I am preventing you from working."
"Not at all, my dear fellow. I have, it is true, to finish this portrait to-day; but I have plenty of time. I will go and put on my working-jacket. Dora will be down in a minute ... only, dear boy, do not mention the shell, will you? Not a word about it!"
De Lussac, left alone, could not control his curiosity. The drawer in which the pansies had been placed was only half shut. He took the packet in his hand and gave way to hearty laughter at the expense of Philip and Dora.
"Well! I'll be hanged," said he, "if ever a woman makes me save some withered old flowers tied in pink ribbon, like a box of chocolates."
If he had only looked round at the garden door, while indulging in these reflections, he would have seen Dora come into the studio.
Dora was radiant, in a pretty simple morning gown, which accentuated her severe and classical beauty. Her large hazel eyes, encircled with long lashes, had an expression of exquisite sweetness; but they were also capable of making any man, who would dare look into them with any other sentiment than that of profound respect, sink into the ground. Her haughty mouth, with its short upper lip, almost Austrian, betrayed a proud, susceptible, and ardent nature. She had the consciousness of her beauty and intellectual worth. The smallest underhand act filled her with repugnance. On seeing de Lussac with the packet of flowers in his hand and the drawer still open, she hardly knew whether to laugh or treat him with contempt. The corner of her mouth turned slightly up and, with a little mocking smile which completely disconcerted the young diplomatist, she said—
"Well, Monsieur de Lussac, and how are you?"
"How are you, chère madame," answered he in an embarrassed manner.