Seymour felt exasperated.

"I know I am," he said. "Do be amusing too; then we shall be delighted with each other."

"But I don't know who you are," said his neighbor.

"Well, that is the case with me," said he. "But my mother--"

His neighbor's face instantly changed from a chilly neutrality to a welcoming warmth.

"Oh, are you Lord Seymour?" she asked.

"I should find it very uncomfortable to be anybody else," said he. "I should not know what to do."

"Then _do_ tell me, because of course you know all about these things: Are we all going to wear slabs of jade next year? And did you see me at Princess Waldenech's wedding this morning? And who manicures you? I hear you have got a marvelous person." Seymour really wished to atone for the unfortunate remark that had broken the silence and exerted himself.

"But of course," he said. "It is Antoinette. She cooks for me and calls me: she dusts my rooms, and brushes my boots. She stirs the soup with one hand and manicures me with the other. Fancy not knowing Antoinette!

She is fifty-two: by the time you are fifty-two you ought to be known anywhere. If she marries I shall die: if I marry, she will still live I hope. Now do tell me: do you recommend me to marry?"

"Doesn't it depend upon whom you marry?"

"Not much, do you think? But perhaps you are married, and so know. Are you married? And would you mind telling me who you are, as I have told you?"

"You never told me: I guessed. Guess who I am."

Seymour looked at her attentively. She was a woman of about fifty, with a shrewd face, like a handsome monkey, and his millinerish eyes saw that she was dressed without the slightest regard to expense.

"I haven't the slightest idea," he said. "But please don't tell me, if you have any private reason for not wishing it to be known. I can readily understand you would not like people to be able to say that you were seen dining with Mama. Of course you are not English."

"Why do you think that?"

"Because you talk it so well. English people always talk it abominably.

But--"

He looked at her again, and a vague resemblance both in speech and in the shape of her head struck him.

"I will guess," he said, "you are a relation of Nadine's."

"Quite right: go on."

Seymour was suddenly agitated and upset a gla.s.s of champagne that had just been filled. He took not the slightest notice of this.

"Is it too much to hope that you are the aunt who--who had so many snuff-boxes?" he asked. "I mean the one to whom the Emperor gave all those lovely snuff-boxes? Or is it too good to be true?"

"Just good enough," she said.

"How wildly exciting! Will you come back to my flat as soon as we can escape from this purgatory and Antoinette shall manicure you. Do tell me about the snuff-boxes; I am sure they were beauties, or you would not--I mean the Emperor would not have given you them."

"Of course not. But I am afraid I can't come to your flat to-night, as I am going to a dance. Ask me another day. I hear you have got some lovely jade and are going to make it the fashion. Then I suppose you will sell it."

Seymour determined to insure his jade before Countess Eleanor entered his rooms, for fear of its subsequently appearing that the Austrian Emperor had followed up his present of snuff-boxes with a present of jade. But he let no suspicion mar the cordiality of his tone.

"Yes, that's the idea," he said. "You see no younger son can possibly live in the way he has been brought up unless he has done something honest and commercial like that, or cheats at bridge. But that is so difficult I am told. You have to learn bridge first, and then go to a conjurer, during which time you probably forget bridge again. But otherwise you can't live at all unless you marry and the only thing left to do is to take to drink and die."

"My brother took to it and lives," said she.

"I know, but you are a very remarkable family."

A footman had wiped up the greater part of the champagne Seymour had spilt and now stood waiting till he could speak to him.

"Her ladyship told me to tell you that you seemed to have had enough champagne, my lord," he said.

Seymour paused for a moment, and his face turned white with indignation.

"Tell her ladyship she is quite right," he said, "and that the first sip I took of it was more than enough."

"Very good, my lord."

"And tell her that the fish was stale," said Seymour shrilly.

"Yes, my lord."

"And tell her--" began Seymour again.

Countess Eleanor interrupted him.

"You have sent enough pleasant messages for one time," she said. "You can talk to your mother afterwards: at present talk to me. Did you go to the wedding this morning?"

"Yes."

Seymour rather frequently allowed himself to be ruffled, but he always calmed down again quickly. "It is so like Mama to send a servant in the middle of dinner to say I am drunk," he said, "but she will be sorry now. Look, she is receiving my message, and is turning purple. That is satisfactory. She looks unusually plain when she is purple. Yes: I am describing the wedding for a lady's paper. I shall get four guineas for it."

"You do not look as if that would do you much good."

"If you take four guineas often enough they--they purify the blood,"

said he, "though certainly the dose is homeopathic. It is called the gold cure. About the wedding. I thought it was very vulgar. And it was frightfully _bourgeois_ in spirit. It is very early Victorian to marry a man who has waited for you since about 1820."

"But they will be very happy."

"So are the _bourgeoisie_ who change hats. At least I should have to be frightfully happy to think of putting on anybody else's hat. I recommend you not to eat that savory unless you have a bad cold that prevents your tasting anything. Shall I send another message to Mama about it?"

"Ah, my dear young man," said Countess Eleanor, "we are all common when we fall in love. You will find yourself being common too, some day. And the people who are least _bourgeois_ become the most common of all.

Nadine, for instance: there is no one less _bourgeoise_ than Nadine, but if she ever falls in love she will be so common that she will be perfectly sublime. She will be the embodiment of humanity. But she is not in love with that great boy next her, who is so clearly in love with her. Dear me, what beautiful Sevres dessert plates. I once collected Sevres as well as snuff-boxes."

"Did you--did you get together a fine collection?" asked Seymour.

"Pretty well. It is easier to get snuff-boxes. My brother has some that used to be mine.--Ah, they are all getting up. Let me come to see your jade some other day."