"Where are you from?" she asked quickly.
"London."
"Catrina," broke in the countess, "you do not remember M. de Chauxville!
He nursed you when you were a child."
Catrina turned and bowed to De Chauxville.
"I should have remembered you," he said, "if we had met accidentally.
After all, childhood is but a miniature--is it not so?"
"Perhaps," answered Catrina; "and when the miniature develops it loses
the delicacy which was its chief charm."
She turned again to Steinmetz, as if desirous of continuing her
conversation with him.
"M. de Chauxville, you surely have news?" broke in the countess's
cackling voice. "I have begged M. Steinmetz in vain. He says he has
none; but is one to believe so notorious a bad character?"
"Madame, it is wise to believe only that which is convenient. But
Steinmetz, I promise you, is the soul of honor. What sort of news do you
crave for? Political, which is dangerous; social, which is scandalous;
or court news, which is invariably false?"
"Let us have scandal, then."
"Ah! I must refer you to the soul of honor."
"Who," answered Steinmetz, "in that official capacity is necessarily
deaf, and in a private capacity is naturally dull."
He was looking very hard at De Chauxville, as if he was attempting to
make him understand something which he could not say aloud.
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