"In Rome," she said.
"Rome ... I remember Rome ... but I never saw a gown like yours there." He sipped his drink and said: "Lucienne, you're a beautiful woman; you make the gown more beautiful."
Lucienne laughed happily.
"I'm fairly sober," he said. "And it is your birthday.... Shall I go on? About your hair, your tiara ... your..."
"Ah, no ... no more, dear Roberto." But her hand went to her platinum tiara; she pushed it forward on her head; the rubies, diamonds and sapphires seemed to glow a little more. The gown was dark, almost a velvet green, very long, very simple. She wore no jewelry other than the tiara, a Humboldt heirloom.
"You know, it's almost 2:00 A.M.," she said.
"Why do you think about time on your birthday! When it's four, we'll be able to see the sun. Has it been a wonderful party?"
"Very wonderful, Roberto."
"Have you opened my gift?"
"Tomorrow."