Believe me, I feel the honor deeply. When you first came into
the room--you may have observed it--I was quite taken aback. I--I have
read in books of beauty capable of taking away a man's breath. You must
excuse me--I am a plain-spoken man. I never met it until this evening."
Etta excused him readily enough. She could forgive plenty of
plain-speaking of this description. Had she not been inordinately vain,
this woman, like many, would have been extraordinarily clever. She
laughed, with little sidelong glances.
"I only hope that you will honor Paris on your way home to England,"
went on Vassili, who had a wonderful knack of judging men and women,
especially shallow ones. "Now, when may that be? When may we hope to see
you again? How long will you be in Russia, and--"
"Ce Vassili is the best English scholar I know!" broke in Steinmetz, who
had approached somewhat quietly. "But he will not talk, princess--he is
so shy."
Paul was approaching also. It was eleven o'clock, he said, and
travellers who had to make an early start would do well to get home to
bed.
When the tall doors had been closed behind the departing guests, Vassili
walked slowly to the fire-place. He posted himself on the bear-skin
hearthrug, his perfectly shod feet well apart--a fine dignified figure
of a man, of erect and military carriage; a very mask of a
face--soulless, colorless, emotionless ever.
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