Not for worlds would her ladyship have risked a scandal. She prized her
position, and loved her diamonds far better than she was ever likely to
love any human being under the sun. Still, it was the fashion to have
one special favourite; and it was a great thing to have conquered the
handsome and popular Adrien Leroy. It was little wonder, therefore,
that, when midnight had struck and still Leroy was absent from her side,
Eveline Merivale beneath the calm conventional smile, was secretly
anxious and inclined to be angry.

She was looking her best to-night; and although she had already been
surfeited with compliments from duke to subaltern, she yet longed to
hear one other voice praise her appearance. There was, indeed, every
reason why Lady Merivale should be lauded as the greatest beauty of her
time, for she carried all before her by the sheer force of her
personality. Dazzlingly fair, with hair of a bronze Titian hue, which
clustered in great waves about her forehead; her eyes of a deep,
lustrous blue, shading almost to violet. To-night she would have borne
off the palm of beauty from any Court in the world, for her dress was a
creation of Paquin, and enhanced to perfection her delicate colouring,
which needed no artificial aids.

Diamonds glistened round her perfect throat, upon her head rested a
magnificent tiara of the same stones, her hands flashed as if touched
with living fire. She might have stood as a figure of Undine--as
beautiful and as soulless.