Bell-boys fought for the honor of answering her ring; the clerks, but
for the question of ownership, would have deeded to her the hotel
and its contents; the other guests regarded her as the final touch
of feminine exclusiveness and beauty that rendered the entourage
perfect.
This super-excellent guest rarely left the hotel. Her habits were
consonant with the customs of the discriminating patrons of the Hotel
Lotus. To enjoy that delectable hostelry one must forego the city as
though it were leagues away. By night a brief excursion to the nearby
roofs is in order; but during the torrid day one remains in the
umbrageous fastnesses of the Lotus as a trout hangs poised in the
pellucid sanctuaries of his favorite pool.
Though alone in the Hotel Lotus, Madame Beaumont preserved the state
of a queen whose loneliness was of position only. She breakfasted at
ten, a cool, sweet, leisurely, delicate being who glowed softly in
the dimness like a jasmine flower in the dusk.
But at dinner was Madame's glory at its height. She wore a gown as
beautiful and immaterial as the mist from an unseen cataract in a
mountain gorge. The nomenclature of this gown is beyond the guess of
the scribe. Always pale-red roses reposed against its lace-garnished
front. It was a gown that the head-waiter viewed with respect and
met at the door. You thought of Paris when you saw it, and maybe of
mysterious countesses, and certainly of Versailles and rapiers and
Mrs.
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