The great eyes looked at him in humorous dubiety. He was wearing a faded mauve shirt and a flagrantly blue tie.
“I am not so sure of your eye for colour, Great High Belovedest, and it would be a pity to have the beautiful palace spoiled.”
“I assure you that East and West in this instance are blended in perfect harmony.”
“And how are Lilias and Niphetos?”
Lilias and Niphetos were two imaginary Angora cats, nearly the size of the Lord High Constable, who generally sat on the newel-posts of the great marble staircase. They were fed on chickens' livers and Devonshire cream.
“Arachne,” he replied gravely, referring to a mythical attendant of Circassian beauty—“Arachne thought they were suffering from ennui, and so she brought them some white mice—and what do you think happened?”
“Why, they gobbled them up, of course.”
“That's where you 're wrong, Stellamaris. Those aristocratic cats turned up their noses at them. They looked at each other pityingly, as if to say, 'Does the foolish woman really think we can be amused by white mice?'”
Stella laughed. “Don't they ever have any kittens?”
“My dear,” said Risca, “they would die if I suggested such a thing to them.”