Moreover, Soublaieff's daughter must abandon herself to the dress-makers, who took possession of her, acting under orders; and the surprises for her grew more frequent and complete as she saw herself, a child of the people, clothed ordinarily, in holland or wool, a fine lady robed in silk and velvet. Obedient, as she had promised to be, she made no difficulties; she murmured her thanks and was passive. But one evening, when, being dressed—the prince had told her they were going out together—she saw herself covered with diamonds, in a long gown of white satin terminating in a train, her luxuriant dark hair twisted up above the neck instead of hanging in thick plaits, she scarcely knew herself.
However, with the singular faculty of adaptation that all women have, Vera was neither awkward nor strange in a part so new for her; she played it with simplicity and admirably. Up to now she had been adorably pretty; the transformation made her strikingly beautiful.
When she was seen at the opera this evening a murmur of admiration ran through the house. Everybody's eyes turned to her, but she was almost unconscious of them, being wholly given up to the brilliant scene on the stage, which was the first thing of the kind she had seen. Seated behind her, Pierre seemed to delight in her triumph, and on his arm the young girl descended the grand staircase, passing through the crowd amid a flattering murmur.
Next morning all the papers spoke of the new and resplendent star that had shone out in the Parisian sky. They did not know her name, but they gave the prince's, adding significantly that the princess was not with her husband.
Pierre Olsdorf had gained the end he had in view in showing himself at the theater with Soublaieff's daughter. In the eyes of the scandal-mongers the prince was simply taking his revenge. He retorted upon his wife and Paul Meyrin by parading one of the most ravishing mistresses imaginable.
However, amid the luxury that surrounded her, in the whirl of this new life which still occasioned her some little fear, there was one thing that Vera could not understand, and that was the strange bearing of the prince toward her. Complete as her ignorance was of life and its passions, his conduct struck her more and more, putting into her mind thoughts which troubled her and her virginity of soul.
Before the servants, or when they were together in public exposed to the curious looks of everybody, Pierre Olsdorf was eager in attentions, tender, and happy; while as soon as he was alone with her, though still affectionate and kind, he grew serious and almost cold.
Vera could not understand these sudden changes. She had never said to herself that her master might love her, and indeed his love would have frightened her, although she was full of affection for him and ready for any sacrifice. The conduct of the prince was most strange of an evening when they came in from a stroll on the boulevards.
Her chamber was separated from his by a bath-room alone. From the one chamber access could be had to the other. When the time came, Julie undressed her young mistress, put her to bed, and then went to tell the prince, waiting in a sitting-room hard by, that madame had retired.
Prince Olsdorf appeared almost immediately, closed the door softly behind him, walked gently through the room as if afraid of disturbing the young girl, wished good-night to Vera by a friendly gesture, not going near her ever, and so went into his own room.