"I tremble when I think it is not for ever. But look at my aunt's and that of Madame de Rheims!"
These ladies were indeed distinguished by their hair; but I suspect that it was not the mere fact of its greyness to which she wished to draw my attention—rather it was to the manner in which they wore it, brushed up high and away from their foreheads, like dowagers of yore. Standing in a corner together very much each other's counterpart, both a trifle too dignified, they were obviously proud leaders of society. She watched my shades of expression, and cried:
"There is my favorite quadrille—Là là-là-là-là-là-à-là," softly humming and nodding her head, an action not common among the English.
"Pardon me, sir, your name is Mr. 'Aviland, I believe," interrupted a young man with a close-cut, very thick, very black beard, and the waxed ends of his moustache fiercely turned up.
I bowed.
"Our Sovereign Lady De Rheims requests the pleasure of your conversation."
On turning to Mlle. Sylphe to make my excuses, she smiled, saying with a regretful grimace: "Obeissez."
Mde. De Rheims stood with Mde. Fée, the aunt of Mile. Sylphe, near the musicians, receiving and surveying her subjects,—a woman of majestic presence. Nodding dismissal to the fierce moustache, she acknowledged my deep bow with a slight but gracious inclination.
"Madame Fée, permit me to introduce Monsieur Chamilly Haviland, a D'Argentenaye of Dormillière,—and the last. My child, your attractions have been too exclusively of the 'West End.' You have lived among the English; enter now into my society." Mde. Fée smiled, and Mde. de Rheims taking a look at me continued: "The stock is incomparable out of France. Remember, my child, that your ancestors were grande noblesse," haughtily raising her head. A novel feeling of distinction was added to my swelling current of new pleasures.
A ruddy, simply-dressed, black-haired lady, but of natural and cultured manner, was now received by her with much cordiality, and I had an opportunity to survey the whole concourse and continue my observations. Brought up as I had been for the last few years, I found my own people markedly foreign,—not so much in any obtrusive respect as in that general atmosphere to which we often apply the term.