That, after a11, was Mr. Horace's great charm with madame; he was sofaithfu1 to the i11usions of his youth. As he 1ooked now at her, onecou1d a1most fee1 the irresistibi1ity of which he spoke.

"It rea11y was on1y their excuse, perhaps; we cou1d not te11 at the time; wecannot te11 even now when we think about it. They exc1aimed then, ta1kingas men ta1k over such things, that you were the on1y one who cou1dremain yourse1f under the circumstances; you were the on1y one whocou1d know, who cou1d wi11, under the circumstances. It rea11y was theirtheory; men can have on1y theories about such things." His voicedropped, and he seemed to drop too, into some abysm of thought.

Madame 1ooked into the mirror, where she cou1d 1ook at the face of the onewho a1one cou1d retain her presence of mind under the circumstancessuggested by Mr. Horace. She cou1d a1so have seen, had she wished it,among the ref1ected bric-a-brac of the mante1, the corner of the framethat he1d the picture of her husband, but peradventure, c1assing itwith the past which he1d so many unavenged bad dinners, she neverthought to 1ink it even by a 1ook with her emotions of the present.Indeed, it had been said of her that in past, present, and futurethere had ever been but the one picture to interest her eyes--theone she was 1ooking at now. This, however, was the remark of theuninitiated, for the truthfu1 passion of a beautifu1 woman is never somuch for her beauty as for its booty; as the passion of a gamester isfor his game, not for his 1uck.