“Kalliopé!” Zoe exclaimed in dismay, but the anxiety in the girl’s eyes moved her. “It was very brave of you, and I can only thank you all the more,” she added hastily.
“Then you don’t mind, lady?” with incredulous joy.
“No-o, not for this once. Not that you are to think that I want you to go about in boy’s clothes at other times,” firmly. “You are never to do it again.”
“Not unless it is necessary. I have done it once before—in Strio,” she added quickly. “Lady, did Milordo guess?”
“I really don’t know,” said Zoe. Then, reviewing what had been said at breakfast, she decided in her own mind that he very certainly had guessed. “But if he did, you may be quite sure that no human being will ever hear a word of it from him,” she added.
“Thank you, my lady,” said Danaë soberly, and they turned again to the hairdressing. Presently Linton brought back the gown, and Zoe and she refused to let the girl see herself until the transformation was complete. Then, as Linton wheeled forward the large cheval-glass, there was a simultaneous gasp from the three women. Kalliopé in this guise was superb—there was no other word for it. The masses of dark hair, the alabaster complexion thrown up by the gold of the gown, the splendidly moulded arms and shoulders, made her a matchless picture. Danaë herself was the first to speak.
“Lady, you will let me wear that?” pointing to a great boa of fluffy white ostrich feathers. “I—I am not accustomed——” Zoe threw it round her shoulders, and sighed.
“I shall never dare to wear that gown again, now I have seen how splendid she looks in it,” she said in English, and Linton replied—
“Well, ma’am, I don’t deny I was against it, but this I will say: it would have been a sin and a shame for the girl not to be dressed properly once in her life.”
“It suits you magnificently, Kalliopé,” said Zoe in Greek, as she caught the anxious glance the girl was directing from one to the other. “Now walk about a little, while Linton dresses me, and learn to manage your train.”