"The world calls him handsome, I am told."
"Yes, but somehow, if he be so, I can't perceive it; he does not please me."
"Well, then, bring me the miniature, and I will pronounce between you and the world."
With a melancholy smile Julie ran to her own apartment, hard by, and in a few minutes returned. With curiosity all alive, Lucille took the brooch and looked at it.
"Well, what say you?" asked Julie, who stood behind her chair, gazing at the trinket over her shoulder. Lucille was silent, although nearly a minute had elapsed.
"He certainly has the noble air," she continued; but still Lucille offered no criticism.
On a sudden she put down the miniature sharply on the table, and said, abruptly, "It is time to go to rest; let us go to bed."
She rose and turned full round on Julie as she spoke. Her face was pale as death, and her eyes looked large and gleaming. Her gaze was almost wild.
"Are you ill?" said Julie, frightened, and taking her hand, which was quite cold.
"O, no, no," said Lucille quickly, with a smile that made her pallor and her dilated stare more shocking. "No, no, no—tired, vexed, heart-sick of the world and of my fate."